Secret Liaison
by ChristinaMay
Summary: AU Modern Sybil marries Larry Grey whenever her family is in a financial crisis, but her priorities change whenever she meets the handsome, Irish driver that Larry has hired. A steamy affair occurs between the two, but even true love has consequences. R&R!
1. Unexpected Phonecall

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Julian Fellowes and I do not Downton Abbey. However, this is a modern AU and I own this wee storyline!**

**A/N: **This is a modern AU based on Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson - or in this case, Sybil Grey. I have made this storyline so that Sybil married Larry Grey to save her family from losing their home. I hope to make this a long-term story, but I can only do this if all you lovely readers review this piece! You spur me on to write more - I'm rather nervous about my own writing, and so it takes a lot of guts for me to post up my fanfiction. Please review and please let me know if you have any ideas in which I can add to this story!

* * *

The sound of the car in the drive was an indication of his return. Sybil closed the book that balanced on her knees with a _slam _and rose from the crimson couch with vehemence. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed the collection of thick books underneath the coffee table. The sound of the car door pulled her out of her reverie and she stuffed her pens and markers into her classic brown satchel. His footfalls were profound on the gravel as she settled back on the couch with a little bottle of nail polish and quickly turned on the television in the corner of the room.

He entered the room to the muffled sound of some random show on the television. Sybil could smell the putrid scent of alcohol in the air and she knew without turning around that her husband was intoxicated. His breath was arduous and he fell against the door frame with a grunt. She put the bottle of pink nail polish on the coffee table and turned to welcome him with a careful smile.

"I didn't think to save dinner, but I can order a Chinese?" Her smile faltered as he did not react to her question. Instead, he stumbled towards the couch with a delirious smirk on his pompous expression. He fell onto her with his full body weight pressing down on her petite form. He crashed his lips onto hers and ensnared his fingers into her wild curls – however, these actions were not pursued with passion.

His nails sank into the flesh on her head and she winced at the contact. Sybil tried to push at his chest gently, but he was adamant on causing her pain. His breath was hot and clammy on her face and his hands wandered down to the button of her jeans. She could not bear the physical contact this time. She had endured it for the past few months, but the new bride could not stomach another evening with her husband.

"No, Larry…please, I don't feel so well," she insisted in her usual throaty tone. Her voice was laced with desperation as she pushed at his chest once more. It was like she was invisible; he had unbuttoned her denim jeans and his hand roamed over her little white pants. He hated when she wore those. She hated when he touched them. Sybil did what she often had to do and smacked him across the face – her hand stung from the contact with his cheek and she could feel tears well in her bright eyes.

"I abide with all your wishes, I provide for you like no man would…and this is how you treat your husband? A husband has _needs_, and still my own wife refuses to make love to me. Hmm, not quite what I wish for in a partner," he hissed in her ear. His fingers were snaked into her hair now as he pulled her head back until she whimpered.

Larry fumbled with his own trousers and had almost succeeded in pulling out his weapon of choice, until his mobile rang. He cursed in frustration and pushed his wife from him harshly until she fell against the couch. Sybil could feel her chest heaving with sobs as her husband answered his phone as he left the room. She could hear him shouting into his mobile in the kitchen and she quickly buttoned her jeans.

He had spent the evening with his old friends from Oxford. She assumed that most of them were now bankers, solicitors or accountants. The evening would be filled with expensive alcohol and cigar smoke in one of London's posh venues – no doubt he would have had their table cornered off so that no-one common could approach them.

Sybil had been married to Larry Grey for the past seven months and it had been the worst decision that she had ever made. No, it had not been her initial decision – not until her father had come out about his finance problems. Her family would lose Downton if she did not make an alliance with Larry – he had more than enough money to lend it out to her family, but it had come at a price. Sybil had been forced to enrol at university in secret; her husband did not approve of women bettering themselves. No, she was meant to spend all her money in Oxford Street.

Her nursing degree would remain a secret. There was no way that she could tell Larry about her aspirations for the future – before she had married him, she had wanted to travel. She would have travelled all over the world and she wanted to learn to ride a motorcycle. However, these dreams were no longer possible.

"I have some work to do at the office." Sybil turned frantically whenever she heard his voice from the door. He leant against the door frame with a bemused expression and brushed at the shoulders of his blazer. She knew that he had no work. She knew that he had a mistress since before their marriage. She knew that he was beneath her, and so he would not have married her. But still, he had never been faithful to her, and she was pleased that there was someone else to take the pressing heat of his body and to listen to the unsophisticated grunts that came from him during love-making. No, love-making was the wrong word – he had only ever fucked her. That would be the correct term to use when it came to having sex with Larry Grey.

"I think I will retire to bed now," she murmured. Her head was bowed so that her tear-stained face was concealed by her wild curls.

"I believe that it would be best if you stay in one of the spare rooms." She had expected the cold shoulder, and she preferred his cold shoulder. However, it was the lonesome life that made her suffer.

Sybil listened as her husband left the house in his usual foul mood. She waited until the headlights shone through the curtains until she moved from the couch. She retrieved her nursing books from under the coffee table whenever his car backed out of the drive. The muffled sound of the television was her only company as she poured over her books once more. She could still smell the delicious aroma of her cooking from the kitchen – well, it wasn't exactly _her_ cooking. She managed to heat up some readymade dinners, but that was certainly an achievement for Sybil.

It was around an hour later that she started to make her way to bed. She clutched one of her books to her chest and a ridiculous yawn emitted from her lips. _Peace for once_, she thought to herself. Larry would be home late, if he even came home at all, and she could sit for as long as she wanted reading her books and listening to some political debates on her iPod – she had recorded them especially for bed. She wouldn't have to listen to Larry's complaints and instead could immerse herself in opinions.

However, as soon as her foot touched the first stair, the phone rang. Sybil deliberated over whether or not she should dismiss the shrill sound of the phone and continue to bed, but it could be one of her sisters and she loved all the calls that she received. Convinced that it would be one of Larry's business associates, she answered the phone with her usual cheerful "hello".

"Erm, hello? Is this the Grey residence?" The soft Irish lilt was unfamiliar to her.

Sybil immediately smiled for no reason at all. It could have been the confused tone of the Irish man, or it could have been the adorable manner in which he coughed nervously, but she could not explain her instant smile.

"Uh-huh, this is the Grey residence. If you're looking to speak with my husband, I'm afraid he is indisposed for the night," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the late call, but I received a voicemail from your husband this afternoon. I am calling to let him know that I will be around in the morning at around seven," he mumbled in response. Sybil could almost picture the man rubbing the back of his neck nervously; she had no idea what he looked like, but still there was an unusual connection to him that she could not explain.

"Oh, well, I'm sure that is all fine. But I wasn't aware that we were expecting company? Do you work with Larry?" Sybil questioned.

There was a throaty laugh at the other end of the phone, but the Irish man soon coughed and excused himself.

"No, milady, I'm the new driver," he explained in an amused tone. She could feel his smile on the other end of the phone and it made her lips twitch.

"I didn't know that we needed a driver…" Sybil paused and suddenly cursed herself for her insolence. "I mean, I'm sure you are a wonderful driver and…oh, I'm rambling. My husband didn't let me know about your arrival," she explained.

"Don't fret, milady, it's quite alright. I hope my arrival doesn't put you out."

"None of that 'milady' nonsense, you can call me Sybil. And no, not at all, I would be pleased to welcome you to our home," she insisted with a small smile.

"Thank you, milady… I mean, Sybil…sorry. Well, I'll speak with you tomorrow…"

She could not explain the sinking sensation in her chest as the conversation came to an end, but she knew how unusual it would be if she sat and chatted to the driver on the phone before she even knew who he was. She felt the need to merely sit there on the staircase and tell this man her life story – perhaps he was like one of those attentive bar-tenders or friendly taxi drivers who you could spill your secrets to. She didn't want an explanation to these thoughts in her mind.

"Wait…I don't even know your name," she chuckled.

"Branson…Tom Branson. I'll see you tomorrow, milady."

Sybil must have mumbled a goodbye in response for she could hear him put the receiver down on the other end. She held the phone in her hand for a few moments as she looked back on the conversation – it was nothing special, and yet she could not dismiss the feeling of warmth when she remembered his soft Irish accent.

She went to bed that night with a smile on her face, for no entire reason.


	2. Making Breakfast

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Downton Abbey - however, this AU storyline is all my pretty little ideas rolled into one!**

**A/N: **I still have to proof-read over this fic as I have written these two chapters when I'm totally exhausted. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, or if this is horrible in general! I will update better stuff, promise!

* * *

It was the alarm on her mobile that woke her the next morning. She refused to move from the warmth of the duvet and she dismissed the shrill sound of the alarm. Sybil shoved her face into the blankets and moaned whenever the mobile started to vibrate on the locker next to the bed. It was intolerable. She relished each morning that she was allowed to wake without the hot breath of her husband on the back of her neck. However, the continuous hum of her alarm was infuriating. Sybil threw back the covers and reached towards the locker to retrieve her mobile; she hit the snooze button on the screen and felt a smile of relief ooze onto her beautiful features.

She stretched out on the double bed and savoured the emptiness of the bed. There was nothing that she wanted more than to be herself once more – to be back in her London flat with her quaint little decorated room and her cat. Larry had insisted that she put her beautiful feline on the streets after he told that he was allergic. However, her husband never entered half of the rooms in the house and she could still have her cat for the most part – she hid little Albert in one of the guest rooms when he came home for dinner, whenever he chose to come home.

It was once her dream to be in bed with a man that she loved – to wake next to someone that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She would kiss him on the nose and watch him as he slept in the morning; but that dream had been demolished whenever she took Larry as her husband. There was no going back now.

Sybil rose from the bed with an unusual smile. It seemed like the first time in seven months that she had slept for the entire night. She wandered out of the room in her bare feet and bounced downstairs for her usual bowl of cereal and morning TV. She looked at the coat rack in the hall and realised that her husband's blazer had not been returned to its usual location. He remained out all night with his lover.

There was a part of her that withered at the fact that he could have love; he could be with someone that he adored more than her whilst she remained at home with her cat as she watched chick flicks on the movie channels. Sybil tried not to think too much about it as she turned to make her way out to the kitchen – but the sound of the doorbell halted her in her tracks; she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Shit," she hissed between her teeth. Sybil held a hand to her chest as she felt her heart hammer beneath her palm. She turned around and marched back to the door; she assumed that Larry misplaced his keys and had come knocking. She clenched her fists as she pulled open the door with a red face and a bemused expression.

"I swear to God, please learn to remember your –," Sybil drowned off in the midst of her sentence. Her face flushed with embarrassment as the man in the doorway shuffled his feet in confusion at her sudden outburst. "Oh, you're not Larry…"

The man shook his head with an amused expression, but he didn't seem frightened of her at all, despite the fact that she had all but attacked him on the front step. He took in her appearance with what looked like amusement. Her wild hair had been pulled into a bun on the top of her head and her face was pink and full of life even though she had no cosmetics on whatsoever. She was dressed in a pair of pink flannel pyjamas and she could feel her cheeks heat up at the mere sight of herself.

"No, I'm afraid not. I'm Branson – we talked on the phone last night?"

The soft Irish lilt was hard to misplace and she could feel her mouth water each time he spoke; his words reverberated through her chest and she had to listen carefully to hear what he actually said to her. She took in his appearance just as he had taken in hers. He was dressed in what seemed to be a uniform; it looked like a plain suit to others but he held a hat underneath his arm. His hair was a dark blonde in the morning sun and his smile was bashful and full of confidence – he was younger than she had expected; he sounded much older on the phone.

"Oh, I should have remembered! I'm not much of a morning person, as you can see," she mumbled, pointing towards her dishevelled appearance. "My husband…he isn't here at the moment, but please come in," she insisted, pulling open the front door.

Branson bowed his head politely and entered the house with interest – he seemed to take in his surroundings considerably; the elaborate chandelier in the hall, the fine sculptures and the evident lack of photos. There were no wedding photos, no family photos and no familiarity with those that lived within the house. This was just bricks and mortar to Sybil, for she had no interest in becoming the perfect little housewife just so that Larry could sneak off each second she turned her back.

"I should have arrived at a more reasonable time, I am sorry," he insisted in his charming tone. However, Sybil was sure that she could not direct any of her resentment towards the confident Irishman.

"No, don't worry about it. I'm just not much of an early bird. Come through to the kitchen, I was just about to put on some breakfast." Her curls were falling out of the band on her head and strands of hair fell into her face. She bounced towards the kitchen and turned in the doorway to beckon him in. "Come on, I'm sure Larry will be home soon. I'm not quite sure what I should be instructing you to do!"

His face broke into a bashful grin as he watched her flit around in her ridiculous pyjamas with her hair falling around her flushed face in curly strands. She was not at all what he had expected when he spoke to her on the phone – her husky British accent was enough to tear his insides apart, but she was so much more in real life. Her smile was enough to melt him, and this was _not _good. She's married. And more importantly, she is married to your new employer. _Don't mess this one up, Tom. _

Tom followed her into the spacious kitchen and watched with interest as she bounced around the kitchen like a wired hamster. She chattered away to him with ease and halted now and then to make sure that she wasn't boring him.

"We had a driver back at Downton for a while, but I preferred to do things on my own. I mean, I tried to convince my father to let me get my license, but he has a thing about women driving…it's all very silly…" she rambled on as she prepared breakfast.

Sybil turned to look at him as he stood awkwardly at the door.

"Come on, I'll make you some breakfast, I doubt you would have time to make much at this time of the morning," she insisted as she ushered him into the kitchen.

She sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar as she waited for the food to heat up. Sybil would often cook breakfast the night before and merely heat it up the next morning so that Larry wouldn't snap at her when he was in a rush for work.

"There's really no need, milady," Tom insisted as he sat opposite her.

"Of course there is, you're in my home. And I told you before; there is no need for any of that nonsense. Please, call me Sybil." Her smile was bright and beautiful as she held out her hand to him. "I forgot to introduce myself officially."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, _Sybil_, but I was given strict instructions by your husband to refer to you in a certain manner," he explained as he reached out to shake her hand. However, all thoughts of respectability flew out of his head when he took her petite, delicate hand in his. The touch was electric. He could feel the warmth emanating from her and he craved to lean forward and drink it in – that coldness that he has felt in his life, almost felt insignificant next to this woman.

"My _husband_ does not own me," she responded in a harsh manner. Sybil tried not to sound bleak in her response, but her sheer unhappiness was reflected in her bright eyes. "I'm sorry…but, you can call me whatever you are comfortable with."

Sybil turned away from Branson and moved towards the oven. She opened the stove and reached for the tray – no, Sybil had never been the best cook, but she was even more clueless when it came to common sense sometimes. She yelped as her soft flesh connected with the warm tray and it fell to the tiled floor with a clatter.

"Oh God…" He was across the kitchen in a flash and fell to his knees next to her. Sybil cradled her hand against her chest as tears gushed down her pink cheeks. "I'll take care of you, don't worry…give me your hand."

Sybil looked at him for a moment with apprehension written on her expression. However, she eventually released her hand so that he could take it in his own. Tom gently lifted her from the floor and led her over to the sink so that he could put the burn under cold water. She shook her head in pain as soon as the cool water flooded down on her crimson hand; Sybil tried to pull away from the icy liquid, but Tom held her wrist so that she had no choice but to comply. His hand had unconsciously come around her waist to support her and she leant her head against his shoulder as her tears subsided and the embarrassment took over.

"I must look like a two-year-old child," she complained as she used her free hand to wipe away the warm tears that had gathered on her cheeks.

"No, not at all… I reckon a two-year-old child would have dealt with it better," he teased her.

Sybil's face broke into a grin at his teasing and she playfully punched his arm in response; the familiarity was unusual. If she were a normal aristocrat, then she would never have let a servant touch her – but Sybil's mind frame did not work like that.

"I think its numb enough now," she commented as she poked her injured hand with a frown. Tom grinned at her bemused expression and clutched a tea-towel he found on one of the counters. He leant down and kissed the back of her hand with an innocent smile, unaware of his actions until they were too late.

"All better," he murmured as his cheeks turned a ridiculous shade of crimson.


	3. Driving Lady Sybil

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Downton Abbey, nor am I Julian, kay?**

**A/N: **I would just like to thank all those who have started to follow this story, and everyone who has reviewed! Please continue to read and review, because that really does spur me on to write more of this story! In reply to some of your reviews - if anyone would **like** to advertise my story on tumblr, please feel free! You have my permission! I don't have a personal tumblr because I'm not exactly sure how to use it and if I would be any good. However, if anyone would like to chat with me, I will provide you with my twitter account: /CupcakeChrisseh Believe me, this story will start getting more dramatic in the next chapter, I promise. (:

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The next week seemed like a dream to Sybil. She couldn't remember the last time she had an actual _conversation _with someone. Her mother and her sisters would call and her father would come around for a drink with her husband, but she could never speak to them without restraint. Tom had become a confidante to Sybil. Their relationship had started innocently as her husband would command Tom to drive her to any store that she wanted, and she would not bicker with him. She would abandon her usual taxi and allow the Irishman to drive her around as if she was the Queen or some such nonsense, but she would not visit the usual aristocratic stores that were expected.

"I want to park in the next street, please," she chimed from the back seat as she peered over his shoulder to watch the morning traffic. Sybil watched with a frown as normal women climbed in and out of taxis or walked around on the streets with children in their arms – she would never be a normal wife or a normal mother. She even _winced_ at the thought of a child that came from Larry; she could never have a family.

Tom waited patiently in the traffic and hummed an unfamiliar tune under his breath. Sybil knew that it was improper to lounge over the back of the driver's seat like some kind of drunkard, but she insisted on watching the traffic along with him. Besides, she liked the smell of his aftershave – it was intoxicating, and mixed with the scent of his spearmint gum that he often chewed in the morning.

"It might take some time –," Tom turned to address her in the back seat, but was taken aback to realise that she was but a few inches from his face.

Sybil chuckled at his shocked expression and tilted her head to the side so that her curls fell over her face. Her smile was infectious as she looked towards the traffic once more and gestured towards the window.

"I don't know how you can stand all this traffic. I had the _worst _road rage whenever I took my lessons and…" Sybil halted her sentence when she realised that she had blurted out one of her many secrets.

Her entire face was warm and she was positive that she resembled a beetroot. She coughed nervously and pretended to concentrate on fixing her hair back into a band, but Tom was interested now and he looked back at her with a kind smile.

"I didn't know that you knew how to drive," he commented with evident curiosity.

"Oh, not all aristocrats need a driver, Branson. I'm perfectly capable of taking myself from place to place without someone driving me," she retorted. However, Sybil immediately regretted her harsh words and her hand automatically went out to touch his shoulder. "I didn't mean that, Tom. It's just…my husband doesn't know about my lessons, and nor do my family. I wanted to keep _some _of my independence. You really are doing a splendid job…"

Tom reacted with a throaty laugh. Sybil's brow creased in confusion as she moved back to lounge over the driver's seat to listen to what he had to say.

"I didn't take offense, milady. I was just surprised. I think that it is very noble of you to be independent in life, and something that everyone should take into account."

Sybil smiled with a surprised expression and her insides seemed to warm at the fact that someone else knew one of her secrets. She did not need to ask him to know that he would not give her away to Larry. She trusted him, and she had no idea why.

"I could help you with your lessons, if you like. I have a few books that you can use and I'm not too shabby with the whole driving scenario," he teased.

Tom turned his head to look at her once more, and was marvelled to see that she was staring right at him. It was almost like Sybil looked into him and saw all of his little quirks and flaws, but still didn't want to look away. She did not respond right away, but instead continued to stare at him with a curious expression. _Don't do it, Tom_, he pleaded with himself. But his body was in control and at that moment, it ached for just one touch of those full, pink lips that were parted in anticipation. Tom moved forward automatically as Sybil looked down at his lips with expectation. However, before their lips could touch, the sound of a horn blaring behind them brought them back to reality.

"Fuck," Tom hissed as he turned to realise that the traffic had dispersed. He quickly moved the car out of the line of fire and continued down the road until he could turn into the street that she had requested.

Sybil fell into the back seat with a sigh and turned to look out of her own window. Her petite hands trembled after that brief encounter and she wondered if he would have kissed her, if that traffic had remained intact. She _yearned_ for someone to kiss her with passion – someone who could actually learn to like her.

"Just outside this store please," she mumbled from the back seat.

Tom pulled the car outside a small book store. He raised an eyebrow at the shabby exterior and the old books that were displayed in the window – he had expected her to shop in some fancy clothes store or to meet with some of her aristocratic friends in a posh coffee house, but this was the last place he had expected.

"I can walk back home from here," Sybil insisted with what she hoped was a smile. Her heart still hammered in her chest from their almost kiss and she knew that he would perhaps pretend that it did not happen. The last thing he needed was his employer's wife coming on to him like some kind of hussy, she thought to herself.

"It's not a problem if you want me to wait, milady. Or I can come back and pick you up, or if you want to meet with any friends…" He wanted to be _helpful_.

But she shook her head at each of his suggestions; her smile was kind, but her expression seemed as faraway as ever. Tom cursed himself for being so bold – he could not look at her in that way. He could never look at her like that…and yet, as he stared at her in the back seat now, he knew that his mind betrayed him.

"No, that's quite alright, I don't have many friends."

Sybil climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Tom watched as she flitted into the old bookstore with an air of curiosity and excitement; he could not help but wonder what books she would take out, or if she was one to read the back of books or decide on them due to their cover. _He had to stop thinking about her_. However, her last comment threw him off a little bit.

_I could be your friend. _However, his body told him differently. But his mind was adamant to have a friendship with this woman; to make her feel less lonely. He could see in her eyes that she did not love her husband no matter how much she insisted that she did when she was in public. No-one should be that lonely.

* * *

The initial awkwardness passed in the next week as their friendship continued. He would drive her to the bookstore each morning and she would take out a new set of books that she would start to read immediately in the car; she would curl up in the backseat and sometimes read aloud to him whenever they were stuck in traffic. Tom realised her preference in books in that first week and had to pinch himself to make sure that she was a real life woman. Sybil read politics and history books, to which Tom replied that he had studied Politics at University. She did not question him on how he ended up as a driver, but he could see her admiration.

"I wish I could take a module in Politics," she mused one afternoon.

"I didn't know that you studied at University?" Tom queried.

Sybil realised that she had stuck her foot in her mouth once more and she winced at how many secrets she had spilled in the car over the last few days. It was natural talking to Tom that she sometimes forgot that he was employed by her husband.

"Oh, well, not many do know that… I enrolled in a part-time nursing degree," she explained to him with a small blush forming on her ashen cheeks. Sybil launched into the story of how she decided to take a nursing degree – her aspirations to travel to third-world countries and give out medical care, and her own personal need to _help _others. He listened carefully the entire time, and with a dream-like smile on his lips.

His last girlfriend had threatened to burn all of his books whenever he would read them in bed for most of the night, and he found that he couldn't hold an intellectual conversation with her if his life depended on it. Caroline had been a beautician – and yes, she had been a stunning woman. He lived with her back in Dublin for quite some time and she kept hinting for him to propose to her, but Tom could never bring himself to tie himself down to someone at such a young age. He was surprised to hear that Sybil was just twenty-one years old, and still she was married so young.

She had all of these aspirations that she could never achieve now, and he had to wonder why she threw all that away for a man that she evidently did not love.

"You won't give me away, will you?" she asked him timidly.

Tom almost laughed at the prospect. He loved to listen to her and to hear about her – to know things that no-one else in the world knew about her. It gave them a bond that he could not quite understand, but he would not sever it.

"No, I could never give you away, Sybil." The words sounded less serious in his mind, but still his promise rang clearly.

Sybil ducked her head as she felt her cheeks redden at his words. She had taken them in an entirely different context, but she believed him all the same. Her laugh was musical as she leant against the window in amusement.

"What's so funny?" he asked her as he turned to look at her slouched figure in the backseat. She was looking at him with a grin on her face.

"That's the first time that you've called me Sybil to my face."

Tom could now feel his own cheeks warm as he smiled. However, he did not look away from her in embarrassment – he felt the first genuine smile on his face for the first time in months, since he had broken off the relationship with Caroline.

"Well, it's a beautiful name. Maybe I should use it more often."

"I think you should…"


	4. Wild Side

**DISCLAIMER: Nope, I am not Fellowes. If I were, Sybil would still be here, yah?**

**A/N: **Thank you for everyone who is still sticking with this story! For those who are waiting for Sybil/Tom sexytimes, we might get some of that in the next chapter! I am working on perhaps making a tumblr to chat with all you guys, but until then, you can contact me via twitter: /CupcakeChrisseh I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit off my game - I'm in a bit of a mood before Downton! Please let me know what you think, guys!

* * *

She hated these social events in which she had to present herself as the perfect wife. The conversation was dull, the music was insufferable and her husband clutched her as if she were a slab of meat rather than someone he had married. Sybil went in search of more wine after the first two hours – she knew that she would have to face the music with at least some intoxication in her blood. The ballroom was full of chatter, but the dance floor was vacant and most of the inhabitants were much older than her. Sybil could remember her mother talking about how tedious these events could be when she was a child, but she had no idea that it was _this_ mind-numbing.

"Would you like more wine, milady?" The passing waiter paused to look at her empty glass and she held it out to him with a look of relieved desperation.

"Please," she mumbled in a less-than-cheerful tone. The waiter seemed to give her a half-hearted smile as he poured the chilled white wine into her glass; she looked at him for a short while before the puzzle clicked into place. "Have I seen you before?"

"I believe so, milady. I work for your parents whenever some of the more important dinners are held at Downton," the waiter explained with a sheepish smile. "I take some extra jobs on the side around London."

"Oh yes, I do remember you. I was awfully sick during one of those dinners and you took me back to my room with some tea," she said with a chuckle. Sybil held her hand out to the waiter with a wide smile. "It was a pleasure to see you again, William."

The blonde waiter looked down at her outstretched hand in shock – not one person had spoken to him the entire evening, and yet this woman was more than friendly. He hesitated for a moment, but shook hands with her as a bashful smile flitted across his facial features.

Sybil watched as William departed, still with a smile on her face. It was the first time in hours that she talked with someone that she actually liked – he had an adorable countenance and she could have an actual conversation with him, no matter how nervous he was to be seen speaking with a lady of her status.

However, her content nature was demolished as soon as she felt a cold hand on her forearm. Sybil looked down and saw his bony fingers constrict around her arm until the skin turned white from the pressure. She winced and tried to discreetly pull away from her husband, but Larry blocked the room from view as he pushed her towards the nearest wall until she could only hear the hustle and bustle of the ballroom. Sybil braved a glance at his distorted expression; he seemed torn between smacking her or sending her home so that she could no longer embarrass him in front of his friends.

"This is the second time that I've had to speak to you about this," he spat at her, pronouncing his words slowly as if she were a child. "First it was that red-headed maid that you were friends with, now I have to watch you cavort with waiters." His vice-like clutch on her arm had become unbearable to the point that she could feel tears on her pink cheeks.

"Please, Larry…" Sybil tried to reach out to the part of him that was once the kind little boy that she played with as a child – but she had come to learn that her husband was an entirely different species from that kind little boy. His mind had been twisted with money and entitlement; he never had to work a day in his life, and this distorted his mind in a way that was irreparable. He lost his innocence a long time ago.

"Leave, I'll make excuses for you." His tone was cold now as he released her arm. Larry flexed his hand, but made no comment on the bruises left on her forearm.

Sybil did not hesitate on moving away from him. She swept away her tears with the back of her hand and sniffed a few times before she finally stepped back into the ballroom; she could tell that most of the eyes in the room were on her. However, she held her chin high and smiled at whomever she made eye contact with. Larry would dismiss her antics soon enough – he would continue to drink until the world around his blurred and then he would make his way to _her_. Sybil preferred it that way – she would be spared another night from him and she could study instead of abiding conversation with a drunken husband.

It took a few minutes for her to find her coat in the cloakroom, and then she was met with the harsh wind of London as she moved outside. The sound of her heels echoed on the pavement as she walked away from the posh venue – even though she was raised to be ever the best, she somehow felt out of place in her perfect existence.

Sybil looked down at her mobile – she received a text from some of her mates from university, but she had dismissed it as she often did. Larry would be too suspicious if she went out with him whenever she should have been at home. However, this was the perfect opportunity to take a walk on the wild side. Some of her girlfriends would be in a club on the other side of town, and had invited her to come along despite the fact that they knew she almost always declined their offers politely. It came as a shock when she text back that she would be there in twenty.

Yes, this would definitely be a night to walk on the wild side.

* * *

The club was an entire transformation from the last location. Sybil decided that she was not drunk enough to take pleasure in the flashing bright lights or the blaring music. She was not accustomed to having to shout at her friends in order to pursue conversation and she had been pushed and shoved in the queue for a drink – it was exhilarating at first, she couldn't believe that she had taken the tube so far away to somewhere that she had never been. If she were smart, she would have called a cab and went home to read some of her books. Instead, she was in this club with everyone dancing around her to the pulse of the loud music.

"You look a bit lonesome over here." He came and sat next to her with a foolish grin – the man had been staring at her from across the bar for more than ten minutes. Sybil had tried to make a bee-line towards the ladies bathroom, but he had come over to her table before she could even conduct an escape route in her mind.

She tried to smile, but all she wanted to do was to leave. Her girlfriends were too drunk for conversation and she wasn't close enough with them to feel comfortable. Sybil, who had never been timid in her life, sat in the corner of the club with a drink.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she insisted with a nervous laugh. She tried to shrug off the man's advances, but he was adamant. He was so close to her now, that she could smell the cheap booze on his breath and the smoke on his clothes. Sybil moved so that she could return to the bar casually, but the man was having none of it.

"Nah, come and sit here on my lap," he drawled. His arm ensnared around her thin waist and he pulled her onto his lap with a husky laugh. Sybil recoiled in distaste from the man and scrambled away from him. "Come here, sweetheart, I'm friendly!"

The drunken man followed her until he could put both hands on either side of her waist; Sybil turned on her heel and shoved him away from her.

"Oi, leave the woman alone, would ya?"

It seemed that there was a drunk man at each turn, however this one 'fought for her honour' and she didn't mind that so much. The men talked for a moment, before punches started to be thrown and Sybil was pushed into the crowd of dancers. No, her walk on the wild side had turned out to be quite disappointing.

Sybil left the club as soon as a path cleared; the air inside was suffocating and she felt almost ready to explode by the time she burst through the door that she had come through. Her hair had fallen out of the neat twist it had been in at the start of the night and she could see various spills on her satin dress. As she looked around the deserted street, she realised that she had no idea where she was and how she could get home from here. Did she even want to go home?

She had dialled his number before she realised what she had done. Sybil held the phone to her ear and listened as it rang – she was just about to cancel the call when she heard his familiar Irish voice on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, hello… I know that you're not on duty, and I shouldn't even be calling you so late, but I don't know where I am and…" Sybil paused as she listened to the background noise on the other end.

Her cheeks turned pink when she heard a woman's voice in the background. _Tom, come back in here!_ Sybil knew that she shouldn't experience the green monster, but her hand clenched around her mobile and she tried to dismiss the fact that she felt almost ready to sob down the phone to him. She honestly had no-one at that moment; she shouldn't have called.

"You have company, I shouldn't have called…I'm so sorry…" Sybil pulled the mobile away from her ear and went to press the 'end call' button, but she heard his voice from the receiver.

"No, wait! Don't worry about that, where are you? I thought you had some fancy event tonight," he tried not to sound worried, but the panic was evidently embedded into his tone. Sybil could picture him running his hand through his dishevelled hair; something that she noted had become quite a habit of his when he was nervous.

"I left and got the tube to the other end of town, my friends invited me to a club…I have no idea how I can get back…I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble," his voice was urgent. "Try and find a street name, Sybil. I'll come and get you now, okay? Don't worry."

* * *

Tom had been true to his word; he arrived outside the club around fifteen minutes later. She was shivering when she climbed into the passenger seat; she was expecting the woman from the phone to accompany him, but it was just the two of them.

"I don't understand why you came all the way over here, it's not the best area," he scolded her as soon as she closed the car door. Sybil could feel her bottom lip quivering as she tried to dismiss the sound of his heated voice in her ear. He turned on the heat in the car and started the engine, but still he continued to rant. "You could have been hurt, Sybil. Are you listening to me?"

Tom turned to look at Sybil, who was now curled up on the passenger seat. When she turned to look at him, he could see her mascara-stained face; he could have shot himself at that moment. Her shoulders shook with sobs and she tried to turn away from him immediately so that she could gaze out the window instead. He was having none of it. Tom reached out and clutched onto her trembling hand; he held it with such tenderness that Sybil could feel her heart stop at the mere contact. She had never experienced that kind of softness – whenever Larry held her hand in public, it was forced and it was harsh. This was something different.

"Oh God, please don't cry…I didn't mean to sound like a complete bastard, I promise," he pleaded with her. Tom looked like someone had killed his puppy as he looked at her tear-stained face in disbelief that he had caused those tears.

"I'm s-sorry…I shouldn't have called you out on your night off, and you were with your girlfriend and I probably r-ruined your night," she mumbled between sniffles.

Tom's forehead creased in confusion as he processed her words.

"I don't know what you're on about, Sybil. I wasn't with my girlfriend – well, because I don't have one. I was having a drink at my sister's flat," he explained in a rushed tone. He could have laughed at her assumption; she was the only woman that he could think about for the past few weeks, never mind having a girlfriend.

"Oh…" Sybil had no words in response. She felt like a complete idiot.

"I'm sorry for making you cry."

His thumb brushed against the back of her hand and she shivered at the contact; she could feel her limbs ache with desire at each look he would give her, but his mere touch was something that she could not stand.

"No, I'm sorry for being such a baby."

_My baby._ Tom would have died if anyone in the vicinity could hear his thoughts. _Don't think of her like that_, he argued with himself.

"You should be getting back to your sister, I'm so sorry for calling you like this…"

Tom shook his head with a small smile. He would have come to get her whether it was raining a storm or snowing a blizzard – he knew that she was in genuine trouble when he heard her over the phone.

"Don't worry about that, I see her all the time anyway. How about we take you home, eh? You look like you're frozen."

He set the car into gear and started to drive away from the blaring music of the club; he really should have let go of her hand, but she kept it happily.


	5. Don't Leave Me

**DISCLAIMER: Nope, I'm still not Julian Fellowes. **

**A/N: **So the time has come! There are definitely some Sybil/Branson sexytimes in this chapter - I initially wanted them to share a few innocent kisses before all that, but knowing both of them, this seemed more suitable. I'm sorry if the scene wasn't great; I'm not experienced in writing M-rated fics, so let me know if I need to improve on anything! I love all of your reviews, and I hope to continue this story for more and more drama! R&R, lovelies!

* * *

She could smell the enticing aroma of the Chinese takeout from the kitchen and she could feel her insides churn with hunger. Sybil had to admit that the dinner at the social event had been far from delicious – however luxurious the food might have been, she was one who believed that you couldn't beat a nice takeout at the weekend. She would wrinkle her nose in distaste at the lobster and she would almost pass out whenever the caviar was passed around the table; she could not abide the constant flow of seafood that was pushed in front of her.

The sound of dishes in the kitchen brought her out of her reverie, and then she remembered that she did not have to be that charming aristocrat tonight. Sybil could be herself with Tom, and she intended to do so when she had the time. He had chatted to her in the car in order for her to remain calm, but it was the constant feel of his hand in her own that balanced out her heightened emotions. She tried to tell herself that he was merely being friendly to her, but she could not halt herself from imagining the most embarrassing scenarios – if her thoughts were revealed, then she may just be beheaded for her lack of decorum.

Sybil would find herself in the bedroom with Larry – he would be on the other end of the bed as much as he could, much to her contentment. However, that allowed her the time to imagine herself in bed with someone else – someone who liked her just the way she was, and someone who encouraged her aspirations and her dreams. It was no shock when she conjured the scene with Tom in her mind; his strong arms ensnaring around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck until she chuckled.

"I can't believe that in a takeout full of nice Chinese food, you chose a burger."

She snorted with laughter as Tom entered the room with two plates in his hands. He sat both dishes onto the coffee table and came to sit next to her on the floor. She sometimes liked her comfort food – in her case that would be the food that she would like as a child whenever her mother would treat her to fast food, which was not often.

"I was once told that I have the taste of a ten-year-old. But how can you beat a nice burger with some ketchup?" she retorted in defence of her decision.

Tom could not conceal his smile at her adorable demeanour as he watched her immediately bite into her burger with a moan of enthusiasm. He could not explain the effect that one little sound had on his body – it went straight to his stomach and he could feel himself harden as she made another slight groan of appreciation at the food. He willed her to halt the torment that she inflicted upon him, but a part of him wanted her to continue – he wanted these feelings to become real in his mind.

"Mm, do you know what I would _really_ love at the moment? A slushie!"

He raised an eyebrow at her sudden outburst, but did not question it. Tom had come to learn that Sybil was an unusual soul, and that was one of the things he loved about her. She didn't care what others thought, even though she was part of a social circle that did nothing but whisper about each other.

"I don't know how anyone can stomach those things – the most awful brain freeze, and they kind of taste like petrol," he retorted in distaste.

"And have you tasted petrol often, Mr Branson?"

"Be careful, Mrs Grey," he teased with a knowing smile – however, his grin turned into a confused frown whenever he watched Sybil's face fall considerably.

"I don't quite like that name…" she explained as she took in his bewildered expression. Sybil tried to smile, but her face fell once more as she remembered for that split second that she was still a married woman. She had married Larry, and now she paid the penalty as her entire life has been sucked away from her.

Tom paused from eating his food and laid his fork down against the dish. He looked at her with a sadness that he could not express in words. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to stroke her curls and to tell her that he would make sure that she would be happy. But how could he promise her that when all he could do was drive her around?

"I know that you are…down, a lot of the time. Forgive me for being bold, and I don't mean to be so familiar with you, but I can tell. I feel like we _are_ friends…"

She could not deny the fact that she wanted to smile at his gesture. She would not scold him for being out of line, for she had encouraged their friendship. However, the word stung her more than she could have known.

Sybil looked around the room with a small smile. She had demanded that he drove her back to her old flat instead of taking her back to the house – she was too forlorn there, and she would not sit in the guest room and wither in her own sorrow for a few hours. She never told Larry that she did not sell her old flat whenever they were married; that was her own business. It was almost like she kept a secret life from him, but that was her choice to make, and she needed _something_ to allow her to remain alive.

The little flat was warm and comforting – the couch and the curtains were a matching crimson and the electric fire set a warm glow around the floor. It had been abandoned for a while, but she came around now and then to study and to do her essays away from the staring of her intolerable husband. She looked back at Tom now – his worried expression, the curve of his dishevelled fringe and his shimmering eyes.

"Uh-huh, I think that we _are_ friends. Thank you for being concerned, but there's not much that I can do to change the situation – I can divorce my husband, but I will have to face the scandal and the disappointment of my family…"

"You can't let them all rule your life, Sybil. Be a free spirit, and take control."

Sybil could feel her fists clench in frustration; how could he ever understand? He would be able to marry whoever he likes and be as happy as he likes. He would never have to face the distress of his family.

"I sometimes try to remember that you are on my side, but it's hard to believe whenever you treat me like that. I can't just _leave_ him…I can't be happy, because that means that others will be unhappy and…"

Tom reached out and touched her arm; she recoiled at the sudden contact, but soon relaxed when she turned and looked at his concerned expression. He looked pained – almost as if he were the one who had to endure all of the loneliness.

"I _am _on your side. I promise."

Sybil still could not recall how it occurred – she thinks that she made the first move. No, she is positive that she made the first move. It took a second for her to decide; she looked at the desperation in his blue orbs and she watched as his lips parted. She leant forward and she kissed him. It was not passionate at first – it was short and it was brief. She moved towards him and pressed her rosy lips against his; his mouth was warm and welcoming and she wanted to melt against him. However, it was over all too soon and she pulled back in embarrassment.

"Tom, I didn't mean…"

Her sentence was cut short. Tom almost launched towards her with enthusiasm; his hands came to frame her heart-shaped face and his fingers sank into the depths of her wild curls as he pressed his lips to hers once more. He relished the taste of her mouth and the warmth that spread through him when their lips connected for the second time. Sybil moaned in anticipation as she felt the world move beneath her.

The kiss had turned from innocent to searing passion within the space of a second. She had been embarrassed at her boldness at first, but now she was clutching onto him as if he were her last thread of life. She had never felt this kind of passion before – she had never had a boyfriend before Larry, just a few encounters that had never gone according to plan in her mind.

His hands were insistent as he almost worshipped her petite form; they roamed from her face to her waist in a matter of seconds and she squirmed in excitement as they neared that area in which she _needed _him most. The desire pooled between her legs and she let out a throaty moan as soon as his fingers brushed her thighs – even that mere touch was enough to throw her over her cliff of anticipation.

"Please," she mumbled in a husky tone; she clutched onto his shirt as if she were afraid that he would dissolve beneath her hands – as if he were a dream. "Don't stop."

Tom did not need more instructions; there were so many indications in his mind that told him this was _wrong_. But it felt so right that he couldn't comprehend it. His hands wandered to her back as he soon found the zipper that would unravel his present; he was agonizingly slow as he pulled down the zipper inch by inch.

"Don't tease me," she growled at him in frustration. His eyes widened at the depth of her tone, but he had no time to react before her mouth was on his once more. Her tongue dipped out along his bottom lip for a small taste, and she was not disappointed. Tom felt a grumble come from deep within his chest as she squirmed until the dress fell around her waist and her top half was revealed.

He could not look at that moment, but his hands had a mind of their own. His palms moved so that he could cup her petite, rounded breasts – he groaned in frustration at the hindrance that was her bra. But with a small flick of his hand, he had released those bountiful breasts from their prison.

"Sybil…" He would not be able to stop himself after this.

She shook her head at the sound of doubt in his voice. She had never felt more _alive_ in her entire existence, and she was positive that she would die if he did not continue. Instead of responding to him, she pressed herself eagerly against him and his hands were now connected with the soft peak of her breasts – he ran his thumb over her pert nipple and she moaned into his mouth.

The floor was becoming the most uncomfortable place in the world now as more clothes were torn from their bodies – Sybil had managed to rid Tom of his shirt and had unbuckled his belt, but not much could be done in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. Tom rose, leaving the untouched dinners behind him, and offered his hand out to that goddess-like woman on the floor. Sybil did not need more of an invitation; she rose from the carpet and leapt into his arms with a grin.

"I have wanted to kiss you since the moment you opened the door in your ridiculous pyjamas," he murmured against her lips as she lavished him with soft kisses. She kissed his cheeks, his nose, his ears, until finally pressing her lips against his.

Sybil could feel her cheeks redden at the idiotic picture he conjured in his mind, but she had never felt herself smile so much in her entire life.

"Is that all you wanted to do?" she inquired with an innocent expression. Her dress had fallen to the floor now and she was left in just her little pink panties; her hands went to the button of his jeans and casually unzipped them.

Tom grinned at her feigned innocence and leant down to press his forehead to hers. She pulled at his jeans until they fell around his ankles and it was just underwear that separated them from each other.

"Where is your bedroom?" he asked as he lifted his head to look around the spacious flat in curiosity. He had been inside the kitchen briefly, but he had never been inside her personal bedroom – it would have been much more difficult if she had been at home, where Larry could come home…to find his wife with the driver.

Sybil pointed towards the nearest door on the left, and Tom did not hesitate to lift her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him and nuzzled her nose against his; oh, how she loved the intoxicating scent of his aftershave. In that moment, she knew what it was like to be adored and to adore someone in return.

Tom carried her into her old bedroom, and she almost felt normal at that moment as he laid her out gently on the duvet and pressed kisses to her breasts. Her chest rose and fall with frantic breathes of excitement and she ran her fingers through his dishevelled sandy hair that now hung in his blue eyes adorably. Her back arched slightly whenever his tongue became the weapon of her personal destruction; he licked at the sensitive peaks of her breasts until she moaned out his name.

His hands worked at her panties whenever she was distracted by the soft kisses he lavished on her chest; her hands were now embedded into his hair and he looked up briefly to see that her eyes had fluttered closed. Tom could feel her shock as he pulled at her panties; her cheeks turned pink and she looked down at him with curiosity. She was nervous; he could tell that she was. Not because she was cheating on her husband, but the fact that she had never been with someone who treated her tenderly.

"Do you want me to leave?" he murmured gently to her.

Sybil shook her head vehemently at his words and reached down to clutch his hand – how could she explain it to him? Larry had mistreated her in the worst ways possible; he had almost demolished her on their wedding night, and now she was nervous at the prospect of being with another man. Was it the same?

"No, it's not that…it's just, I'm not as experienced as you would be. It sounds silly; because I'm married…but Larry isn't…he isn't gentle with me."

Tom could feel his body stiffen at the thought of that pompous bastard touching her – Sybil did not belong to Tom, but he could not imagine her being with anyone else. He had hurt her, and now she thought that sex was like that with everyone.

"I would never hurt you, Sybil. You have to believe me," he said to her gently. Tom moved so that he could press a tender kiss to her lips; he touched her face with such adoration that she almost believed that she could be happy in this world. "Do you trust me?" he asked her.

She could only nod her head.

Sybil never could have imagined that such pleasure was possible. He had gently removed her little pink panties and kissed her stomach with such tenderness. His lips moved down to her thighs as he gave each of them equal attention; she squirmed beneath him as his soft kisses found her core. Her hands had ensnared themselves into his hair and she found that now and then she would pull on it harshly – no, such pleasure could not be humanly possible, she thought to herself.

He had removed his boxers whenever she pleaded with him to hurry. Her impatience made him chuckle and she smacked him on the chest for teasing her. Her body arched to meet him as he slid over her slender form in anticipation; Tom looked at her to validate that she wanted to do this and that she wanted to sleep with him. He was met with a look of sheer hunger, and that was enough for him.

Tom pushed into her gently, inching himself in until she could take no more. He groaned in satisfaction as he heard her cry out in pleasure; her nails pierced the flesh on his neck as he moved his hips against her. Sybil hooked her legs around his waist as his pace became more urgent – he had never been more aroused in his entire life as he watched her wriggle beneath him in sheer pleasure. She would throw her head back against the pillow with her hair billowing behind her; her moans would be head from those below and above them and his name was like warm toffee in her mouth.

She arched her hips towards him as he moved on top of her with vehemence; Sybil could feel herself coming to the edge and she tightened her hold on him. There was a sheen of sweat between them both as Tom ran his hands along her body – up her small wait, across her stomach, until he could cup her breasts.

"Oh, Tom…" Her voice was husky and desperate as their hips collided one last time. He erupted inside of her and she felt a warmth that she had never experienced before; she trembled in the aftermath of their love-making and he collapsed on top of her.

Tom kissed her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her mouth…he wanted her to feel loved.

It was a few minutes later before he reluctantly pulled out of her and moved so that he could rest next to her on the bed; he lay facing the ceiling as he waited for his breath to come back to him. However, Sybil had other plans. He had expected her to perhaps regret this after the deed was finally done, but she crawled across the bed until she could tuck herself into his side. She pulled the blankets around them and looked up at him with her long lashes casting shadows across her pink cheeks.

"Please don't leave," she murmured against his chest.

Tom could have cried, only he didn't want to look like an emotional idiot. She didn't reject him at all; she slid her arm over his chest and gently ran her fingers over his arm. He could feel all the social statuses melting away – Tom could be Tom whenever he was around her, and Sybil could be Sybil when she was around him. That was all that mattered; the rest was detail.


	6. Secret Dates

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Downton Abbey - if I did, I would be rich and wouldn't have to go to lectures every day!**

**A/N: **Thank you for all of your reviews, they seriously keep me going! This chapter is a bit more mild than the last - but there are a lot of fluffy S/T moments. I want their relationship to be more about love than lust, and for them to make an actual attempt at a romantic relationship with dates and all the cute little things that normal couples would do. Obviously, there will be more drama ahead when Sybil has to make the decision to leave her husband and her family; seems like an easy decision, but other factors appear throughout this story. I have decided to continue this into a lot later in S/T's lives, so if you could please pass this fic on, I would appreciate it! **The only way I can continue, is if my lovely readers are reviewing!** I am super busy with university, so I'll blow off my work for you guys if you just let me know. ;]

* * *

The net curtains billowed in the chilled breeze as the window allowed the cold air to gush into the bedroom. She tried to dismiss the unpleasant demeanour of the room as her slumber called her back into the land of dreams. However, the London weather had others plans and was determined the wake her – she could feel the icy wind crawl over her bare back and she moaned into her pillow. No, she realised with a start. She had not been cushioned against her little pink pillow in her bedroom; the warmth that emanated from her head rest was human flesh.

Sybil bit down on her bottom lip as the events of the previous night came flooding back into her mind like a broken dam. She wanted to feel shame or some kind of remorse for her actions – she had never been a religious woman, but she believed in the morals of faithfulness. However, her conscience did not seem to kick in. The butterflies that fluttered around in her stomach came from her absolute blissfulness instead of the guiltiness that she _should_ have felt.

She didn't want to move for a moment – this was just how she had imagined it. Sybil had always dreamt about what it would be like to wake up to someone that you actually liked – and someone who liked you in return. This was what _affection_ felt like, and she did not know how she could return to the coldness of her marriage after such an encounter. Her body froze. What if Branson didn't want a relationship with her? What if he thought that she was some kind of hussy for throwing herself on him?

Sybil shook her head; she _knew_ him. They had conversations together in the car and she would come to visit him in the connecting garage in the house; he would come and sit with her at breakfast and she would keep him company as he read the morning paper and had his coffee with her, no matter how unusual it seemed. He would not think those kinds of things about her, when he was the only soul in this world that truly knew her and what she wanted to do with her life.

She would not let these negative thoughts darken her mood when she felt so eternally whole in that moment. Sybil relished the warmth that passed between them and she could still feel the thin sheet of sweat that had glistened their naked bodies during their lovemaking – she couldn't call it anything else, plain sex seemed to undermine it. She reached her hand out and brushed the soft hairs on his chest; he squirmed beneath her but remained in a peaceful slumber. _Don't leave me_, she had told him. He remained with her the entire night – he did not have his way with her and then throw her to the side as if she were a bit of rubbish on the street, just as Larry would.

His arm tightened around her and he moved onto his side; she was almost crushed underneath his weight but instead found herself chuckling. His head rested on hers and he seemed to inhale into her hair in the most peculiar manner.

"Tom?" she whispered, as she tried to hold in her laughter.

He didn't seem to respond to her murmurs, but instead grunted and ran his hand along her stomach unconsciously. Sybil squirmed in anticipation at the unintentional gesture and she could feel her limbs tighten at the mere contact – she would never forget the way his hands caressed each inch of her soft skin the previous night.

"Tom?" she hissed once more. But this time, she leant forward and kissed the spot beneath his ear. He moved once more, but did not wake. Sybil was feeling quite bold this morning, and so she took his earlobe into her mouth and slowly sucked on it. This time, there was quite the reaction from him – he moved so quickly that she hardly realised it had happened until she was pinned beneath him.

Her arms were held above her head and a sleepy Branson peered down at her. His sandy hair was sticking out at all ends and she noticed that his early morning stubble was, well…almost too sexy to comprehend. Sybil yearned to kiss him; to taste his mouth and run her hands along his cheeks.

"Hmm, never been woken up like that before," he murmured in curiosity. Tom's smile was almost delirious as he looked down at her in awe.

"You didn't leave me," Sybil replied immediately. She didn't mean for it to come out, but it was on her mind since she woke. She had expected to wake up to a cold bed and a note of shame on the bedside locker. But he didn't shun her, he stayed.

"I promised, didn't I?"

She grinned up at him as he leant down and pressed his lips firmly against hers. The kiss was innocent at first – a good morning kiss to waken them both up. However, as soon as his mouth opened and she could feel his warm breathe mix with hers, she couldn't handle the innocence of their actions. Sybil ran her hand into his dishevelled locks and moaned in satisfaction as he massaged his tongue with hers in a slow rhythm that was almost painful to her desire.

Tom was the one who reluctantly pulled away first. His breathing was fast and he rests his forehead against hers; he could feel their hearts beating together as they lay chest to chest. He could remain like this forever, but he knew that there was work to be done and she would have to make some decisions about this.

"You don't regret it then?"

Sybil could only smile. She wouldn't have gone through with it unless she was absolutely sure that she wanted to do it – Tom was so much more than her friend now, and she couldn't imagine walking away from him after this encounter.

"No, never…" she murmured to him as she reached up to gently stroke the side of his face. He looked so crestfallen when he asked her that question; Sybil was sure that he was just as afraid of getting his heart broken as she was. "I don't know where to go from here, Tom…there are so many things that I have to consider. But, I do know that I can't give you up…I couldn't."

His smile was radiant as he kissed her once more. He rolled to the side so that he could look at her now; her brown curls spread against the pillows and her rosy cheeks framing her bright smile as she looked back at him.

"This is all a bit fucked up, isn't it?" He queried with a soft laugh.

"I think so, but I don't feel…ashamed. I feel _amazing_, for the first time in a while…"

Tom ducked his head for a moment and stared down at his hands; he had only dated a few women after he broke up with Caroline, but still he never allowed himself to become close to them. He would go on a few dates with them, pull once or twice, but then he would throw out their number after a while – it sounded horrible, but he just couldn't handle another relationship. He had promised himself to be the best he could be whenever he met the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with – what if she was lying in front of him right now?

"Do you want to…I mean…do you want to be with me?" His cheeks flushed red as he asked the question, but he needed to clear the air now. Tom couldn't put his heart into the mix if all she wanted was someone on the side; he didn't want to be that.

"I wouldn't have had sex with you if I didn't want to _be_ with you…I'm not like that. It's just…my family needs the connection to the Greys, and I provide them with that. But I can't do it anymore…do whatever they want and be what they want me to be," Sybil paused as she considered what she would say next. She could never turn him away, not now that she had connected with him like this. "Just give me some time, Tom…I promise that it won't be forever."

It was evident on his face that he wanted all of her – without Larry Grey looming over them, and without having to think that some other man will sleep in the same bed as her. However, some sacrifices would have to be made, and she would have to be sure that both of them could work if she left her husband.

"We'll work something out."

Those were his last words before the two of them slumped back into their previous embrace; it would be a while before she had to be home, and she assumed that Larry wouldn't be back until the afternoon. She would make the most of the time with her secret lover; she just hoped that he didn't have to be secret for long.

* * *

Her smile was infectious. He could swear that his jaw ached after spending the afternoon with Sybil. It had never been a part of their plan – she climbed into his car under the impression that he would drive her home and she would tell Larry that she had stayed in one of her girlfriend's houses after the social event. He wouldn't mind, he never did mind whenever she left him to his own devices, but you could never tell when his moods would take a turn for the worse. She text him before she left her own little flat to let him know that she had stayed out, but received no reply.

"He never cares whenever I leave, because he has someone else to run to," she told Tom whenever he slid into the driver's seat next to her. His brow was creased in confusion; he was raised in a world where a man and a woman would wed because of the love shared between them, not the money. He knew that Sybil would never marry him for her own financial needs, but she had taken that sacrifice for her family.

"I don't understand why you stay with each other…"

"It's complicated." Her reply was sharp, and she automatically regretted it.

Sybil reached out and took his hand; she ran her thumb over the back of his hand and tilted her head to the side as she scrutinised him. She looked so normal, in the car with him – there was nothing she wanted more than to have a normal life with a normal person. He would take her out on dates to the cinema and for dinner, and then she would become his girlfriend. They would move into a cute pokey flat together and order takeouts on the weekend – yes, there was nothing she wanted more.

"Come on, we'll have lunch," she insisted with a grin.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her sudden outburst; but this normality was something that he craved. He could take her to another part of town – somewhere that she wouldn't be recognized, and they could be together normally for a while.

And so they did.

* * *

He watched her with intense curiosity as she drank the slushie in five minutes flat. Her pink lips were on the straw as she sucked the multi-coloured contents out of the container at a ridiculous pace. He couldn't deny how ludicrously adorable she could be sometimes – he would watch her in the back of the car whenever she spoke on her mobile; she would fiddle with a strand of her hair. She would lounge in the back seat with a novel or sometimes she would sing along to whatever was on the radio at the time, and would mock him whenever he tried to keep a straight face.

"I didn't believe you when you said you liked those things," he murmured in distaste as she sucked desperately at the straw for the last remaining slivers at the bottom of the cup. Sybil only stuck her tongue out at him.

"I can't be blamed for having amazing taste in unusual beverages."

"Lunch at the arcade…this is a date that I'll not soon forget." However, his smile proved that he didn't care where the hell he was, as long as she was with him. He still couldn't dismiss the intoxicating scent of her hair or the sound of her satisfied moans whenever he touched her in all of the right places.

"Oh, a date, is it?" She was grinning from ear to ear as she teased him. Sybil moved from the chair opposite him so that she could move around the table; he watched her with suspicion as she smiled down at him.

"I would say so, and I'll take you on many more."

Sybil slid onto his lap and grinned whenever his two arms came around her petite form. He swept a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes and looked at her intensely – he had never met anyone who made him feel so _complete_. But still, there was a part of him that was falling apart – this was still an affair.

"Tom…" Her voice was just a murmur in his ear. "Will you wait for me?"

His body stiffened – this was it, he would either decline or agree to this affair. Tom looked up at her beautiful features – the curve of her nose, her pink lips and her eyes that shimmered with sincerity. It was then that he knew that it would be okay; he would fight for her.

"I'd wait forever."

Sybil smiled at his response and leant forward until their hungry lips connected. He held her face between his two palms and gently caressed her pink cheeks; she would be his one day, and all this would just be a part of their story.

"I'm not asking for forever," she said with a chuckle. "No, just a few weeks so I can sort out matters with my family…"

No more words were passed between them; their affair was signed with a bittersweet kiss. The lunch passed with smiles and secret touches – she broke into laughter when he fell over his own feet, he tickled her senseless when she teased his singing and they held hands in the car before she was forced back into her life of loneliness.


	7. The Consequences

**DISCLAIMER: Bitches, I am not Julian Fellowes, kay?**

**A/N: **This is quite a packed-in chapter, and it took me ages to write because I was a bit stressed with university. I'm supposed to be reading Macbeth because I have a tutorial on it tomorrow. But alas, this fanfic won! I'm sorry if this is poorly written, due to the fact that I have been on and off all day and suffered with bad writer's block for the most part of the day. I started this in the morning! Anyhow, the next chapter should be up soon depending on reviews! Please, pass this along to your friends and tell them to revieeeew! If anyone wants to contact me on tumblr:

* * *

It had been three weeks since that cold takeout in her little quaint flat. It was an understatement to say that she spent almost all of her time with Tom since. Sybil invented more and more reasons for her to need the car, and often told her husband that she had to travel to other destinations outside of London for some retail therapy. She assumed that Larry could see through her; he knew her just as much as she knew him, but he seemed to have other matters on his mind. Sybil did not question them – she couldn't remember the last time she sat down and had a serious conversation with her childhood friend. However, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Her mind had been taken prisoner by a certain Irishman, and she would swear that she had never smiled so much in her entire existence. The schedule remained the same at home – she would wake in her ridiculous nightwear, come downstairs to let Tom inside and they would eat breakfast in the kitchen. Larry would mumble something about coffee on his way out the door. Sybil and Tom would wait until the sound of his tires diminished, and she would dive into his arms.

"He seems different this week," Tom would tell her with seriousness written on his handsome features, but Sybil was having none of it. She silenced him with a kiss.

"Never mind him," she would insist. "What will we do today?"

This routine had become something of a relief for Sybil. She hadn't been able to be herself for the past seven months, and the last month had proven to be blissful. However, there was the matter of her family that she had to address. She insisted to Tom that she would let him know when the situation changed, but she never did. She sometimes wondered if he would ever tire of waiting for her decision; would he leave her even though she asked him to stay with her. She was asking for a lot from him.

* * *

There were times when she came close to speaking to her mother about the situation. Sybil sat in the parlour with her one afternoon, drinking tea and listening to her idle chat. It was never personal – no, her mother loved her, but sometimes she felt so detached from her family. Sybil adored her mother, and loved her father, but it felt like pulling teeth whenever she tried to sit down and speak to them about something personal or private to her. Cora tried to discreetly talk her out of her marriage to Larry that was how she knew that she could come to her. But still, how could she explain to her mother that she was now in a frequent affair with the Irish driver? It was ridiculous – she couldn't come to tea with her mother and blurt out something like that. She wished it were that simple.

"You seem miles away, darling."

Her mother's American twang pulled her out of her reverie and she looked up from her teacup to find Cora peering at her curiously. Sybil tried to act natural and smoothed out her afternoon dress; but it was a feeble distraction.

"I can't seem to concentrate today for some reason," she said with an airy laugh.

"You do know that you can always come back and stay with us whenever you want; a married woman always needs a bit of a break," Cora hinted as she watched her daughter gaze out of the window. It would take a fool not to realise how miserable she was; Sybil was a tremendous actress when it suited her, but Cora would only see a wedding band on her finger whenever social events were called.

"No, I'm quite fine, mama. I haven't been feeling the best for a while, I think I just need some rest," Sybil insisted with a firm nod of her head. Cora knew better than to push her daughter for information; she would come to her whenever she was in trouble, and then she would offer his assistance.

"Come on, sweetheart, your sisters will skin me alive if I'm late for another lunch," Cora continued in her soft American drawl – the voice that healed all of her problems when she was a child. Sybil smiled despite the continuous fluttering in her stomach; it was either the nervousness of having to pretend in front of her family, or because she stuffed herself with fish and chips the previous night.

"I do wonder when Edith will find a boyfriend, she must be bored to death in that apartment of hers," Cora muttered with a sigh as she linked arms with her daughter. This idle chat continued into the car outside the house, and continued until they arrived outside her sister's apartment.

* * *

It wasn't often that all three sisters met and talked – Edith seemed to be the one who pulled them all together now and then whenever she felt not enough communication was had between them all. Mary would rather chew off her arm than have a lunch date with Edith, but Sybil could not abide having her mother and sisters over to her home. Larry would come and ruin it as he often did with his snide comments about their financial state and he would point out her flaws every two seconds.

Sybil shook her head inwardly – no, it would be best to leave all that for now. However, she had to admit that she loved seeing her sisters again. She wished they were all small once more; so she could gush about Tom with them and avoid the sardonic judgement that was sure to follow in its wake.

"You haven't eaten much at all, darling," Mary commented.

Sybil pushed the ham and salad around the dish with her fork; she couldn't bring herself to eat much more than she did this morning. If she were honest, she would have preferred to lie in bed with a book.

"Sybil hasn't been feeling well," Cora interjected before she could comment. Her mother's brow was creased with concern. "We could always take you to Dr Clarkson, he's known you since you were a child…would you like that?"

Sybil almost huffed in indignation. She felt like a child at the dinner table, being scrutinised with each move she made. She let her fork fall to the dish with a clatter and her mother winced at the abrupt noise.

"No, mama, I'm quite able to take care of myself. I'm married now, do you remember? You must remember, you were all there…"

Mary reached out and caught her youngest sister's wrist with her hand. Her facial expression hinted that she was between humiliation and concern. Her eyebrows shot up as Sybil yanked her arm away like a spoilt child.

"What on earth is the matter with you, darling? Mama was only trying to help," Mary insisted as her mouth twisted into a disapproving frown at her sister's behaviour. However, her features softened immediately when she noticed the pearl-like tears that threatened to fall down her sister's flushed cheeks. She rested her knife and fork on the dish and turned so that she could face her sister, both hands reaching out for hers.

"You don't need to tell us all the details, Sybil. But we _all _care about you, and we want the best for you." Her sister's tone of voice was persistent and soft; Mary had the tough demeanour that made her seem like the cold one, but she was fiercely protective and Sybil admired that trait in her sister.

"I don't know what is wrong with me; I've been an emotional wreck all week. I think I need to calm down for a while," Sybil muttered as her family stared back at her incredulously. She was often described as one of the sweetest ones in the family, but her emotions were like a rollercoaster since the start of the week. Even Tom had noticed the shift in her personality.

The lunch continued in awful silence that was sometimes accompanied with polite chat that had no reason whatsoever. Sybil would smile and nod when she could, and now and then she would comment on the table decorations, but she wouldn't allow them to drive the conversation back to her unusual behaviour.

* * *

"I hate all of these secrets," she said to him one evening. Tom was sprawled out on her couch with his head resting comfortably on her lap; he flicked through the channels on her little television without taking much interest in any of them. He paused whenever he heard her words and peered up at her in concern.

"I knew that would bother you eventually," he replied in his comforting Irish lilt.

"It's not the secret about us, per se. It's all of them – the fact that I am doing a university degree that none of my family know about, and I have been attending these debates that I want to talk about all the time…my family love me, but I couldn't risk discovery…not when Larry is concerned."

"It's like you're a bird in a cage, love. You can't stay in that prison forever, and the sooner you realise that, the better." He didn't mean to sound persistent; he was as patient as he could be and he would wait for her no matter what – but he could tell how anxious it was making her, and the worst thing was seeing her in pain.

"I think that…we will have to leave for a while, Tom. I don't think Larry would take it well if I left him for the driver and remained in the same town…you have no idea what he's capable of when he has his mind set on something."

Sybil's beautiful face was a picture of anxiety as she looked down at him; her hands unconsciously ran through his honey-coloured hair as she thought about what it would mean if she made this decision.

"I can take care of myself, and I'll take care of you."

He was determined; she had to give him that. Larry had taken drastic measures in the past to ensure that all men that looked at her were warned off. She tried to smile, but Tom could see through her façade and moved so that he was sitting on the couch.

"Ah, come on, don't try to fool me. Give me a real smile."

Sybil pushed her chin into the air indignantly and refused to humour him. However, she soon realised that this was the wrong idea to take with Tom; he leapt on her in a flash and his hands attacked her sides with tickles. Yes, this was definitely her weakness and she hated him for knowing it. Sybil feebly pushed at his chest as her laughter rang out around the small room; but when he eventually stopped, amusement dissolved and her desire took over.

She was trembling for him immediately; her deft hands pulled at the hem of his shirt until she could slide her soft palms along his stomach until they rested on his chest. She pulled gently on the short hairs that were scattered across his solid chest and he moaned into her mouth as she captured his lips in a passionate kiss that seemed to steal away all of her troubles for just that moment.

Tom melted at her mere touch; her soft hands were like experts to his body now. She knew where all of his weak spots were and she used that to her advantage; she all but tore the shirt from his muscular form and continued to explore him in the most satisfying manners. Her mouth found his throat as she innocently pressed kisses along the curve of his neck until she reached that sensitive spot below his ear; no, there would be no mercy for him. Her tongue was moist and warm as she gently sucked on his neck; the sound of her husky moan in his ear was enough to send him crashing.

"I have to drive you home." His voice was a half-whine, half-moan. He would happily remain there on her couch; without a shirt and without a chance in hell as she attacked his neck and sensitive spots with all of her moist kisses.

"I _am _home," she murmured between kisses. Sybil eventually moved to his face as she looked at him with blue orbs that were clouded with desire and adoration. Tom didn't hesitate to push loose curls from her face, before he leant forward and sealed his tenderness with a chaste kiss.

He went to move from the couch, but Sybil clutched onto his arm and pulled him back down onto her. No, she had no patience for bedrooms that night. She _wanted_ him and she_ needed_ him at that moment.

That was all the permission that he needed; his hands were on her petite form in a matter of seconds as she was rid of each piece of clothing he could find. It soon came to the point where both naked bodies were aching for each other; Sybil could feel the heat emanate from the Irishman above her and Tom stroked her hair in comfort as he pushed into her. It was like all the breath was sucked from them both.

The encounter had started with passion and fervour, but now Sybil relished the moments that she had with him. Their pace was sleepy as she raised her hips to meet his, resulting in the most escalating groans from her throat. His hands were firm on her waist as he guided her to their peak; her arms were ensnared around his neck as she held onto him for dear life.

Their release was mutual. Tom watched with heavy-lidded eyes as the beautiful woman below him squirmed until satisfaction was complete; their breathing was ragged and heavy, but none of them seemed to want to move at that moment.

"Sybil?" His voice was strained and his throat was dry, but he managed to look down at her with shimmering blue orbs that she could almost drown in.

"Mm…?" Sybil was dazed; a delirious smile was pasted onto her pretty features and she stroked his arm with unconscious affection.

"I love you."

She had never heard those words in her entire life from a man. Yes, she heard it from her mama and the rest of her family…but never in this intimate way. _I love you._ It was like a dream that she didn't want to wake from. _I love you_. She had found someone that actually respected her and wanted her to be herself. _I love you_. She needed to leave her ghastly husband now…now that someone had said those words: _I love you_.

"Oh shit, Sybil…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry –," His sentence was cut short as Sybil leant forward and brushed her lips with his; it was gentle, soft and full of the love that she possessed for him.

"I'm quite sure that I love you too, Tom Branson."

* * *

Needless to say, her mood transformed the next morning. Sybil didn't even mind that she had to wake up in the same house as Larry Grey – someone _loved_ her and that was all that mattered to her that day. Her smile was suspicious as she walked through the streets of London; she resembled someone who just won the lottery as she flitted through the tube station in a delirious daze that she wanted to stay in forever.

The tube ride was thrilling; she loved to watch the different faces come and leave whenever they liked and she relished the moments when she could sit back and decipher the strangers' expressions. However, it was over all too soon and she was on her way to her sister's apartment to apologize for her actions the previous day.

Edith didn't seem to learn the 'cold shoulder' tactic, as she continued to text Sybil into the early hours of the morning to make sure that she was okay. Mama and Mary were smart enough to leave her alone for a while – besides; both of them had their own lives to be getting on with. Edith was often the one who was left to deal with the emotional wrecks in the family, but Sybil appreciated her sister's concern and decided that dismissing her texts was the wrong way to go about her appreciation.

"Oh, I didn't know if you were alive or dead," Edith scolded her as soon as she buzzed in at her apartment. "Don't be ridiculous today again, Sybil. I want to know what the matter is; otherwise I'll never sleep with worry."

Sybil grinned at her elder sister's attempt at sternness. It didn't suit her, but she found it amusing all the same. She discarded her coat in the hallway and followed Edith into the kitchen; the smell of bacon and sausages hit her like a ton of bricks.

"I didn't take you as one for an English fry," Sybil said as she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"I started eating a bit more since Mary told me that my arms were too skinny," Edith replied in a monotonous voice. Mary and Edith would never see eye to eye, and the entire family had accepted that since their childhood. "Sybil…you look green."

"No, I'm fine…I'm…"

Her words were replaced with her breakfast as Sybil leant over her sister's sink and emptied the entire contents of her stomach. Edith was at her side in an instant as she caressed her sister's back and held her wild curls away from her face. She handed Sybil a tissue whenever she was finished; but her brow was creased with worry and she looked like she was about to faint with concern.

"I think…I think we need to take a taxi to the chemist."

Edith's eyebrows shot up immediately as she understood her sister's meaning; however, she was under the impression that it was less complicated than it actually was. Oh, how her sister was wrong. If her assumptions were correct, then her entire life would have turned upside down in the space of a month.

"Are you…"

"I'm late. I didn't think anything of it because I'm on the pill. I think I should take a test, just to be sure…oh god, Edith. There's something I have to tell you…"

* * *

**DUN DUN DUNNNN. **Okay, so this was obviously going to happen at some point. However, there WILL be more drama and complications to come with it. Keep reviewing, they keep me going!

~ ChristinaMay.


	8. Confessions

**DISCLAIMER: Do I really need to keep doing these?**

**A/N: **Thank you so much for all of the reviews on the last chapter with all the baby drama, and thank you to all who reblogged my post on Tumblr. Quick reminder of where my personal tumblr is: Follow me if you can for more updates! Well, this chapter took me _forever _to write due to a stomach bug and severe writer's block, but your reviews pushed me to post this at 2:30am, yay to me! So please excuse me if there are any mistakes in here, which I will correct when I can be bothered to read back over it! Please, please continue to review and pass this onto your friends!

* * *

Her sister was silent for quite some time. Unlike her eldest sister, Edith preferred to calculate her words before she threw them in someone's face. Her face remained passive and she allowed her hand to rest on Sybil's arm as she recounted the events of the last month; this was a clear indication that she would be on her side no matter what had occurred between herself and her husband. Sybil knew that her hands trembled as she tried not to look at the test that was sat on the coffee table; she looked in the other direction and tried to pretend that it wasn't there at all.

However, her sister's calm tone pulled her back to the present moment and she was reminded that it was real, and she had another few minutes to wait until her fate was set in stone. Edith clutched her sister's hand and squeezed with compassion; she tried to smile but her brow was wrinkled in distress and there was confusion in her face. Her soft red hair bounced around her neck as she looked down at their intertwined hands and tried to come up with some words of sisterly comfort.

"I don't know what to tell you, exactly. I've never been in this situation…well, hardly any situations involve me, but I wish I had some words of advice…" Edith paused and brushed her light locks behind her ears. "But I _will _be on your side and fight your corner when the time comes – I'm not so sure starting an affair with the driver was the best idea in the world. I'm sure Mama will faint when she finds out. However, I want you to follow your heart…I want to see your usual smile on your face again."

Sybil felt like her throat was a desert as she listened to her sister. In one fluid moment, she flung her arms around her older sister and buried her face into her perfumed neck. She could feel Edith's initial shock, but she eventually pulled her arms around her confused, younger sister and hushed her until her shoulders no longer shook. When she pulled back, her cheeks were tear-stained and there was a bewildered smile on her face as she looked at her sister.

"I love him so much, Edith…I won't give him up."

Her sister smiled; something that was rare with Edith at times. She tilted her head to the side and watched her younger sister with curiosity – she had never experienced that kind of love before, and she wanted it so much for everyone else.

"I think you should leave him…Larry, I mean. It doesn't matter about the families, Sybil. It would be atrocious for you to stay with him when you are so unhappy. It's not like divorce doesn't happen now and then, the family will get over it."

Sybil knew that her sister made sense, but she couldn't abide the fact that she had to dishearten everyone and allow her family to be subject to rumours – at least she knew that Edith would be on her side, no matter what. Even if she did have to abandon the family for some time, she could still count on Edith to talk to her.

The sound of the alarm on her mobile startled her and she looked down at the screen. It was time. She could feel Edith's hand squeeze her own in affection, but she would have to do this on her own. Sybil rose from the couch and walked over to the coffee table – however, she did not look down as she lifted it. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her hands shook as she turned the test around; she looked down and could feel her knees crumble beneath her. There it was: that little plus that indicated that she had another life growing inside her.

* * *

She didn't know how she came to be in a bed. She was curled into a foetal position on the mattress with the duvet covering her shivering form. Sybil could see that someone had fit a hot water bottle to her abdomen and the events of that day came rushing back to her – she found it hard to breathe when she looked back on that moment when she looked down and saw the little cross. She sucked in air frantically and immediately rose from the bed so that she was in a sitting position.

Sybil felt almost like she had been thrust into darkness; like she was in a hole and there was no way in hell that she could climb out of it. She would pull at the dirt and climb as much as she could – but it was useless; she was in this hole on her own and she would have to find some other way to escape the darkness she found herself in. Her mouth pulled into a frown as she remembered the mood that adorned her that morning – the smiling that never seemed to end.

"Sybil?" The door swung open and Sybil winced at the loud noise.

Edith carried a tray into the room and paused when she realised that her sister was awake. She seemed broken between leaving the room and having a conversation with her distressed sister, whom she had to assist into the spare bedroom after almost having a mental breakdown. She had tried to calm her down, but she stared at the test without blinking…tears streamed down her cheeks, but she made no noise.

"I didn't think you would want to be alone after that…" Edith said with a small smile as she put the tray down on the bedside locker. "I made some tea…"

"Why is it that we always think everything can be fixed with a cup of tea…" Sybil snorted as she looked at the quaint little tea-set that Edith had arranged.

"Because my tea…has honey," Edith insisted with a grin. She seemed to hesitate for a moment as she poured the tea; she chewed nervously on her cheek and tried not to mind the time too much, but he would be here soon. "Sybil, I was worried about you…so I called him…the driver, Tom."

Sybil could feel the colour drain from her face as she gazed at Edith in horror. Her sister shook her head frantically when she realised that Sybil thought she had given her away – no, she would never do that.

"No, no…I didn't tell him anything, I promise. I just told him that you were ill and if you could come around with the car and pick you up."

She felt calmer with the idea that Tom would be here soon. He would take care of her; he said that on the first day they met and he had been true to his word since. Sybil wanted nothing more than to curl up into his side and rest her head on his chest while they both dozed on her comfortable little couch. Those were the moments that she relished in the day; when she could be herself and let her guard down. But that would all change now that she had another secret to add to her collection – so far, Tom was aware of all of her little secrets…but how could she possibly tell him this one?

"I don't know what to tell him, Edith. I'm quite sure that he didn't sign up for this when he started the relationship with me…"

"I'm not sure either of you were thinking. But what's done is done, and you have to make some important decisions…and soon. I told you before, you can't stay with Larry if that means your happiness is sacrificed, Sybil…and especially not now in your situation. I would advise you to tell the driver about this; if he loves you as much as you insist, then I'm sure he won't abandon you, darling. I'll be on your side, no matter what you decide to do with the baby."

Sybil hadn't thought of another plan. She wouldn't have to think about another plan. Her hand fell to her stomach unconsciously and she shook her head – no, she wouldn't have an abortion. She knew that she would look back in ten years time and wish to know the little life that grew inside of her once. That had never been on her cards. She would raise the baby with her, no matter what happened with Tom.

"I'm keeping the baby." Her voice was firm, and her sister nodded at her decision.

The sound of the doorbell was like another siren in her head. Edith touched her sister's shoulder when she seen how green she had turned and rose from the bed to answer the door – _it is now or never_, Sybil thought.

She listened in the spare bedroom as Edith let Tom into the apartment. She felt her stomach tighten when she heard that familiar Irish brogue and she almost burst into tears at the thought of throwing this bombshell on him. Sybil scratched at the nail polish on her nails nervously and fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater; she tried to smile as Tom moved into the room with his brow creased in confusion.

"I'm sorry it took me so long…" Tom paused as he took in her appearance. Her hair was mussed, her eyes were red and blotched and her face was stained with mascara. He was at her side in a second, dismissing the fact that her sister was just outside the room. He sat on the bed next to her and reached out to dry her moist eyes. "What's the matter, love?" His tone was laced with concern as Sybil only smiled.

There were no words that she could use to tell him. She could open her mouth and spill out an array of explanations, but instead she reached into her satchel and retrieved the test that still adorned the little plus. Sybil was practical in that sense, there was no point in preparing him for the news – instead, she held it out for him with a neutral expression and waited for whatever would come back at her. She could feel the apprehension radiating from his body as he looked down at the test with bewilderment – he waited for a few awkward moments, and then took it from her. His face was blank as he looked down at the little pink plus; she waited and waited for a reaction, but instead received a vacant expression.

"Is it…" he started, but his voice broke in the midst of his sentence.

"It's yours." Tom looked at her with disorientation clouding his facial expression. Sybil could feel her fists clench as she tried to hold her temper; she knew that he didn't know how to take the news, and she was married after all…but still the thought that she could carry _that man's _child angered her. "Larry, he is…well, infertile."

Tom's brow rose at the sudden revelation, but he didn't comment on it. He looked down at the test once more with blurred vision – he suddenly realised that his eyes had welled up with unshed tears. The Irishman tried to blink them away, but this only resulted in the first few tears falling down his cheeks.

"Have you decided on…"

"I'm keeping it." Tom didn't seem to have the chance to communicate as Sybil threw her answers back at him immediately; she wanted him to know that she had no doubt in her mind about the father or the child or the fate of it. She had someone else growing inside her now, and it was _her_ responsibility to take care of it, no matter who left her or who remained with her. But one thing was clear, she had to tell Larry.

"Sybil…" His voice was hoarse as he reached out and took her trembling hand. "I am…so sorry. I should have done more whenever we…I was an idiot. I wish I could…" Tom could only stammer out his words, and Sybil squeezed his hand whenever he breathed out a sigh and gave up on making any sense at all.

"You watched me take the pill every morning; it was safe to assume that this would never be an issue. But now it is, and I'll have to deal with it."

"No, _we'll_ have to deal with it."

It wasn't the usual ground-breaking moment that a man and a woman had whenever they discovered that they would be parents; but his words made her smile. It basically meant that they were in it together now; he wouldn't leave her. _Please don't leave me,_ she had once said to him. He was becoming awfully good at keeping his promises.

* * *

The hum of the television was the only noise that could be heard in the room. Sybil had become quite sick of the amount of tears that had been shed in the last week, but it was an eternal flow for her at this point. Her cheeks had become moist with warm tears and the tissue in her hand was wrinkled as she squeezed it into her palm. Tom had insisted that he would be with her whenever she told Larry about the affair; that had been quite the disaster as her husband looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel when the Irishman came to the door in his casual attire.

"I know that we have never been _close_, Larry. I think we both know that we married for convenience and not for love…" Sybil didn't need to reason with him; he didn't attack her with words or with abuse. Instead, he looked away from them both and peered out the window into the darkness. She could see that his fists were clenched until his knuckles turned white with the pressure, but he did not comment whenever she spoke, which was a rare occasion for Larry.

"Have you come to tell me about your sordid affair, or did you come to pack a suitcase and leave?" He queried in a relatively calm tone.

Tom had his arm settled on Sybil's lower back the entire time; her emotions were already scattered and this revelation to her husband would be the worst for her. She moved forward so that she could be nearer to Larry, but he snorted in return as he watched her reflection in the window pane. She paused mid-stride and sunk back against Tom in embarrassment; this was it. He would kick her out and she would be free from the abuse that he lavished on her for the past seven months; but there was a little element of her that _felt sorry _for Larry. He had been a childhood friend – of course, he pulled at her hair and called her names, but they had been kind to each other. A ten-year-old Sybil had embraced him at his grandmother's funeral.

"Uh…both, I would say. I never meant to hurt you with this, Larry, I was just so alone here and I _love _Tom…"

"Hurt me?" Larry's voice had become an octave higher due to his restrained anger. His laugh was callous as he swung around and faced the guilty pair with amusement written in his features. "I knew about this for weeks. Do you honestly believe me to be so entirely _stupid_? I know everything."

Sybil tightened her clutch on Tom as she listened to her husband; he knew. He knew and he didn't give any hints, and didn't seem to _care_ that his wife was having sex with the driver behind his back. He didn't fire Tom and he didn't confront them. She didn't understand…Larry was complicated in so many ways, but she was bewildered at the fact that he seemed to calm and collected. It worried her.

"Larry, I don't…" she trailed off as she realised that she didn't know what to say to him…what to ask him. Did she want to understand his motives? Perhaps he just wanted out of their marriage just as much as she did; so he could be with his own secret lover that he was with behind her back. "There is something you don't know."

Larry shoved his hands into his pockets and let out a sharp laugh. His face was etched with muted pain, but he didn't show it in his tone of voice. He waited expectantly as Sybil sucked in a deep breathe and looked at Tom for reassurance. He nodded.

"I'm pregnant."

Larry didn't need an explanation about how he wasn't the father. He already knew that it was impossible for him to father a child. His chest tightened and he clenched his fists as his body threatened to move forward and punch the Irishman in the face – the man who would be given all that he wouldn't have. He never had Sybil; he was keen on her for as long as he knew and he thought she was one of the most beautiful creatures in the world, but she turned out to be more trouble than he expected. He would never have her now. He would never have a child with her…with anyone.

"Get out." His words were hissed with venom. He was calm before; he expected the revelation of the affair in due course, but his emotions had not been prepared for her latest news to the steamy affair. No, he wouldn't look like the loser in this. He would remain calm…he would remain calm… "_Leave._"

Tom didn't hesitate as he pulled on Sybil's arm immediately. She seemed torn between wanting to stay and explain to Larry; but his red face warned her that she should stay away for some time. She followed Tom out of the living room and lifted her rucksack full of personal things on her way out the front door; when the door slammed, that was it for Larry.

His scream was blood-curdling mixed with the sound of a smashing vase. His hands were covered in his own crimson blood and he sank to the floor amongst the various shards of shimmering glass. It was over then. He would have to bear the humiliation and the rumours and he knew that he would be ruined if his infertility came out. However, as he listened to the sound of the engine starting in the drive, he smiled. It was an ominous smile that made him so very chilling. As the car pulled out of the drive, he laughed…and continued to laugh until the police knocked on his door a few hours later.

* * *

"He seemed fine about it, if I'm honest," Tom said to her whenever they were on the road. However, Sybil could not concentrate on the conversation; she knew that Larry had put on pretence in the living room, she knew him too well. He would either be in pieces at the humiliation of the separation, or he would be in a rage and would drink his sorrows until he did something ridiculously stupid.

"No, it's like the calm before the storm…I wouldn't breathe easily just yet."

"I should have taken a taxi…I feel like some kind of thief, taking the car with us. I've taken the man's wife, and now his motor…"

"It's mine, Larry came to accept that I would take lessons and preferred it was in a classier car than my instructor provided," Sybil said with a raised brow.

Tom reached out and grasped her small hand. She squeezed it in response. The hardest part was over; she would have to face rejection from her family next, and then she would be free to start the next chapter of her life with Tom. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and she leant forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek; oh, she couldn't quite get used to his intoxicating scent.

"I hope you don't mind the small flat much, I'm never in it half the time. We will need to get a bigger place whenever the baby comes though…" He trailed off as he watched her grin from ear to ear. "What are you smiling at?"

"It's the first time I've heard you talk about it…the baby, I mean. It's all happened so fast; I didn't think it would turn out so well."

"I told you that I loved you, didn't I? I would do anything for you, Sybil. That counts for the little one growing inside you now too."

Sybil could feel her heart swell with contentedness as she settled back into her seat with an infectious smile. However, it soon faded whenever they met the usual traffic on the bridge. The sound of horns blaring was a frequent occurrence and Sybil sank comfortably into the seat as they would be there for some time. However, the car never did slow down. She sat upright immediately.

"You can slow down a bit now…" Her voice was teasing, but Tom looked green as he continued to push down on the brakes of the car. "Stop the car, Tom."

"I can't!" came his disgruntled reply. "Sybil…"

"Turn the car!" she insisted as she watched the car speed towards the row of traffic. Tom shook his head in bewilderment as he continued to push on the breaks. "_Turn the car_…" It was the last words he heard before Sybil reached out and turned the car away from the quickly impending cars. The plummet in his stomach alerted him to the fact that they were mid-air. The crash made his eyes blur; but nothing terrified him more than the water…it kept coming…and he didn't know how to stop it.

* * *

**A/N: **Just thought a small note at the end of this chapter wouldn't go amiss! Yes, dramatic, I know. Where do all my ideas come from? A sleep-deprived mind that really should be reading Macbeth instead of writing fanfic. However, for all those who missed out on the blanks - yes, Larry _did _mess with the brakes on Sybil's car after he found out that she was having an affair. Why? Because he is a complete maniac who would rather be a widow than an embarrassed divorcee. However, there are elements of me that feel sorry for Larry and I do tend to touch on his human side - however, he is still a maniac and I still owe him a punch in the face for doing all this.

Stay tuned for the next chapter, and please review! They give me inspiration to continue! (:

~ ChristinaMay.


	9. Without a Breathe

**DISCLAIMER: No, I am not Julian Fellowes. **

**A/N: **So this is a bit of an unusual chapter, but it took me quite some time to write. If, like me, you are an emotional wreck, then you will find this chapter heart-wrenching. I won't spoil it all for you, but I will say that I appreciate all of your reviews and they kept me going this week when I had a pretty bad week. I was a little down in the dumps, and this escapism is kind of awesome for me - everyone has been so nice so far, which is brilliant, because I'm a little nervous about my writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't find it too uneventful - I can guarantee a few shocks in the next chapter with Larry; Tom and Larry will have a mutual friend and there will be some cute times with Sybil and Tom.

* * *

Tom could still hear the sounds of screams and sirens in his mind. His hands trembled so much that he could remember the paramedic holding him down. His throat was hoarse from the water and he shook as he asked about _her_. He could still see her ashen face and her mauve lips whenever he pulled her out of the water; she did not open her mouth and suck in a brisk breathe as he did whenever he surfaced. He shivered violently as he shook her in the water; he did not know if his cheeks were wet with tears or the water from the river. There was a boat that came to pull them both from the water; the flashlights were shone in his tear-stained face and it blinded him. He could remember sobbing as he explained to the paramedic what had occurred.

"I don't know," he cried out for the third time in a row. "The car wouldn't slow down, I would have hit the cars in front…I swerved and the barrier of the bridge shattered…her seatbelt was stuck, I couldn't…I came up for breathe and then swam back down and tried to break the door or the window…I had to swim back through my door, it took so long…where is she?"

He felt like his entire world had been smashed in front of him. It had been so perfect for one blissful moment in that car – driving her away from her old life and into a new one with him…with him and their child. _Oh God_, the baby. He could feel more sobs arise in his throat as he remembered about that little life inside his girlfriend's stomach and he turned away from the paramedic so that he could empty the contents of his stomach onto the road. He did not know how much time he spent bent over, but he turned immediately when he heard the sound of more paramedics close by.

"Oh God, please no…" His voice broke as he rushed towards the chaotic scene in the middle of the road. Tom had expected her to be in an ambulance and on her way to the hospital at this point – but the paramedics had his beautiful Sybil laid out on the road in her wet clothes whilst one of them pumped at her chest with his hands. Her face was white and there was no glimmer of life around her. "No, please no…"

Before he could make it to her, a policeman blocked his path. His hands were on Tom's chest as he held him back with as much compassion as possible. He could have struck the police officer there and then, and he was tempted. However, instead he decided that he would take that moment to crumble. His knees shook and he clutched the police officer's collar with his trembling hands; his sobs were heart-wrenching and the officer patted his arm with a solemn expression – Tom assumed that he didn't have the most cheerful profession in the entire world.

"Come on, son…we had better let them do their job, eh?" The kind, cockney accent and the warm face of the old gentleman did seem to settle him just a bit. However, as he looked over the man's shoulder and watched the paramedics continue to pump at her chest, he could feel the world falling away from him. "Are you alright, mate…do you want me to get the paramedics over?" Tom didn't have the time to answer him as his knees buckled and he collapsed in the middle of the road; the last thing he could see was one of the paramedics shaking their head with a sombre frown.

* * *

The hospital lights were harsh. He almost thought that he was in Heaven for a moment, until he realised that he was in the deepest realms of Hell. Tom could feel his chest move rapidly as his mind recalled all of the details of the incident – the screams, the sirens, the water, her face, and the paramedics. He could feel the vomit in his throat once more, but he swallowed it quickly as tears took over. The tears felt like lava on his skin as they poured down his cheeks and onto the clean hospital pillow. Tom looked down at the hospital gown and the needles and tubes sticking out of him; he almost groaned in distress as he sat up immediately.

His head spun for some time as he pulled out whatever needles had been stuck into his arms; he winced as the machines he was hooked to sounded. Tom swung his legs over the uncomfortable hospital bed and could feel his knees almost buckle beneath him as he made a beeline towards the curtains; he pushed back the curtains and stumbled down the corridor in search of some answers.

However, his brave adventure came to an end when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Tom spun around to face a stern doctor; but this would not halt him from asking the questions that needed to be answered. Where could he see his Sybil? He couldn't dismiss that harsh picture from his mind – her cold face, her blue lips and her unmoving chest as he shook her in the water and pleaded for her to open her eyes. _Just breath, love._ He could feel the tears prick his eyes once more as he remembered pulling her lifeless body from the water and watching the paramedics work on her until it was too late. He wanted to see his Sybil; to kiss her once more, to hold her hand and to sob into her shoulder.

"Come back to bed, Mr Branson," the doctor insisted sternly. He shook his head.

"I was in the accident with her…with my girlfriend, and I need to see her…I need to look at her…please don't turn me away without looking at her…" His soft Irish lilt was embroidered with sadness and frailty as he pleaded with the doctor.

"Tom?" He heard a husky voice call from behind one of the curtains.

He didn't quite believe it when he heard it at first; he believed that it was a mind trick and he was still asleep in the hospital bed, dreaming. However, when he heard that unmistakable voice once more, he could feel his heart fall into his stomach.

"Tom?" Her voice was hoarse and cracked, but he would recognise it anywhere.

Tom could feel his insides melt with hope as he dismissed the irritated doctor and moved towards the curtain as if it were the door to Heaven. He pulled back the flimsy fabric of the curtain and a sob erupted from him. Her face was still so pale and her entire body shook, but she was there…she was still there with him. She was swaddled in blankets and she could hardly move, but he could not mistake that wild mane of curls as he came over to the bed with red eyes and trembling hands.

"Am I dreaming?" He said aloud as he reached out and touched her face – it was cold to the touch, but she closed her eyes just as a single tear fell down her ashen cheek. "Oh God, love, I thought you were…I thought…" Tom couldn't finish his sentence as he fell to his knees and kissed her. His shaking hands found their way through her hair and his lips touched each inch of her face as he urged himself to believe this picture.

"I love you." Those seemed to be the only words that she could manage as her eyes were closing slowly as she drifted in and out of consciousness. However, those were the sole words that Tom needed to know and he could feel more tears come to his eyes when he heard them come from her broken and beaten body.

"Oh, I love you too, my darling," he crooned as he pushed her hair from her face and pressed a gentle and chaste kiss to her forehead. Tom could feel the doctor's presence behind him and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stay, but he was determined to come back as soon as possible and when everyone's backs were turned. He would never leave her alone in this place – he would stay with her.

"Come on, we are monitoring her carefully, I wouldn't worry…she was a close call but our paramedics brought her back at the last minute, she's lucky."

"What about the baby? I mean, she is pregnant…I don't know how long, about three or four weeks, I think…" Tom could feel his resolve crumbling as he looked down at Sybil and silently asked God to spare his child, also.

"I wouldn't worry, Mr Branson, we'll have her all checked out when she is conscious and we will update you as much as possible."

* * *

Tom made a mental note to visit church whenever he left the hospital. It seemed that someone was on his side for once as the doctor later informed him that there was still a little one inside her and he or she was fine. He could not remember how long he had remained in hospital – it wasn't until later that his brother informed him that he had been in there for more than a week. He could have been discharged some time ago but the doctors were worried about the amount of trauma he had been through. Tom could remember waking in the night from the most horrible dreams – her face could only be seen in photos, her slender form was laid in a coffin and he could hear the screaming of a baby but he couldn't find it, no matter how much he looked.

"I think that this attack wasn't an accident," he told the police whenever they came around for questioning. The car had been salvaged from the river for examination and the police had asked him for a list of possible enemies that would have wanted him injured…or at the more extreme end of the stick, dead. Tom looked like he could have burst a blood vessel as he uttered the first name that came to mind, and the only name that could arise at that moment. He had been in Sybil's car and the calm manner in which he let his wife leave with another man; he should have seen it coming.

"Larry Grey," Tom told the officers with an emotionless expression. His fists were clenched into the sheets on the bed and he waited until the police left until he could break down once more, for the twentieth time that week.

However, he seemed to calm more and more as Sybil came around. The doctors waited until all of her stats were back to normal before she was discharged from the hospital – she was left without much energy and Tom could feel how tired she was even after a short conversation with him. He could merely reach out and hold her hand whilst she drifted back into a peaceful slumber; one that he could not master after almost experiencing her death. She had no idea how much he died inside when he looked at her unmoving face.

He could feel relief flood around him when the doctor released them both. Tom would need something to take his mind off murdering someone; he had been so tempted to leave the hospital and to take a visit to the house of his former boss. It felt like the only reconciliation he could achieve for his pain would come from the sight of that man's blood on his knuckles. But he knew that Sybil would come first, and he had vowed not to leave her, as he did the first night they were together. _Don't leave me._

* * *

Sybil held onto her Irishman as much as she could as he eased her out of the bed; her entire form was stiff and she would have fell to the cold floor if he didn't have a muscular arm ensnared around her thin waist. Her hand automatically flitted to her flat stomach as she felt an immediate protection for the child inside her; it would be fatal for her to injure herself once more in her current condition. Tom eased her onto the wheelchair and she smiled in gratitude as he pressed a kiss to her brow.

However, the peace and relief didn't last as she heard a familiar voice from behind the curtain – her normal reaction would be an ecstatic smile whenever she saw her father, but she could hear from his stern tone that he wasn't here to make her feel better. Her family had come to visit now and then in the hospital after her mother had been called; but her father had chosen to stay away and stick with phone conversations when he found out about Sybil's sordid affair with the Irish driver. Even on the phone, Sybil could feel his embarrassment and humiliation through the receiver and Tom often had to grasp onto her hand tightly as tears pricked her eyes.

The curtain was pushed aside and Sybil and Tom were met with the sight of her parents. Robert looked like he was ready to burst a blood vessel as his eyes met with Tom's, but Cora smiled widely as he looked down at her daughter in the wheelchair. She seemed to be content that her baby was out of bed and _alive_ – however, her father couldn't seem to see past the covetous Irishman who stood with a hand on her shoulder. Robert sniffed in distaste and turned his attention to Sybil.

"We've come to take you home, Sybil, we'll be going back to Downton for the rest of the summer and it's the perfect place for you to rest…and to escape the scandal that will arise soon in London," her father articulated clearly. His smile indicated that he thought that this would be a heartfelt gesture towards his troubled daughter, but Sybil shifted uncomfortably on the wheelchair and looked up at Tom.

"I'll be going home with Tom. He has all my things there already…"

"That's ridiculous. It might be best to distance yourself from all this for a while…"

Sybil could feel her face turning red as Tom squeezed her shoulder in comfort. She reached to her shoulder and ensnared her fingers with his; how could she leave him after he spent hours thinking that she was dead? He had never left her side since, and she had recovered quicker under his steady care. His kisses on her forehead, the gentle stroke of his hands on her face and the warm smile that she was met with when she woke to his husky voice.

"You mean distance from Tom?" Sybil could feel her body stiffen, but she wouldn't succumb to the ideals of her parents. She did that once, and that left her in the predicament that she was in with Larry. "I'm sorry papa, but I won't abandon my initial plans because of this incident. This is what Larry wanted…"

Cora could feel the infuriation emanating from her husband as his face flushed. Robert scoffed at the idea that his perfect son-in-law could have been responsible for this problem; he would defend Larry as much as he could, and Sybil knew that nothing she could tell him would transform his ideals – Larry was the agreeable choice for his daughter, and Tom was not. Her father would be blue in the face before he accepted the driver into the family on the arm of his youngest daughter.

"You couldn't _possibly_ believe that Larry had anything to do with this accident, Sybil…" Robert insisted as he looked at his wife for validation. However, Cora bowed her head and instead chose to remain silent. "The police haven't informed me that this was an intentional act, and so until then…it would be best to keep your thoughts to yourselves."

"With all respect, _sir_, I find it hard to believe that a new motor would malfunction just like that," Tom retorted with a calm demeanour. He tried not to become riled at the fact that Sybil's own father refused to believe her suspicions about her husband.

Robert seemed shocked that this man even dared to address him, but Cora placed her delicate hand on his shoulder and smiled down at her daughter. "I'm sure that Tom will take care of you, darling, but your father just thought that you might feel more comfortable in your old room with all your things around you…"

"Thank you mama, but I really would like to go back with Tom. I've made my decision to leave with him, and I won't go back on that now."

"Well then, I can see that there is nothing we can do to change your mind," Cora murmured in her strong American accent, but she didn't seem to want to start a fight between both men whilst Sybil was in her current situation. "Come on, Robert, we had better let her get on with it. Give us a ring when you get there and let us know how you are feeling, sweetheart."

Robert shifted uneasily at the sudden dismissal of his intentions, but followed his wife's suit and kissed his daughter's cheek. However, as expected, he gave no indication to the fact that Tom existed and wandered past him when it was time to leave – it seemed to be Sybil's hand on his that kept him from twitching in irritation.

"Well, never thought that I would be meeting your parents in the hospital like this…not as bad as I thought," Tom chuckled.

"Oh, I don't think we've seen the last of my family. You have yet to meet Mary."

* * *

The first night in the flat with Sybil had been better than he expected; she shuffled around the kitchen like she had lived there for ten years and she busied herself with putting some of her clothing into his wardrobe neatly. Somehow, he found the intimacy of this situation arousing – she was there with him, all of her things were mixed with his and she was _alive_. His whole world could have crashed down around him in a matter of seconds, but God had spared him the heartache of such a loss and here she was, curled up next to him in his bed… _their _bed.

However, this peace of mind did not last so long into the night. Tom hadn't informed Sybil about his frequent nightmares in the hospital; the trauma of the experience had unhinged his mind a little bit. The thought of losing her had destroyed him.

Sybil awoke to the sound of his murmuring, but her concern did not reach its point until he started to thrash around in the covers. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat and he winced when Sybil reached out and touched him.

"It's me, Tom…please wake up," she hissed as she shook his shoulder. It took a few more moments for him to come around, but when he did… the unmistakable fear in his eyes was hard to miss. Tom searched her face for a moment before he could breath easily; her face was cocooned between his palms as he pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. Sybil pulled her arms around him and kissed his mussed hair as he buried his face into her neck. It seemed that they remained in that position for quite some time.

"I can't describe it to you, love…that moment when I watched them try and resuscitate you. I thought it was over for a minute. It was like someone had just handed me all that I ever wanted – someone who loved me and I loved in return…that sweet baby that will be ours in a few months – and then it was all taken from me. I thought about how we never had our picture taken together…"

Tom wanted to continue, but his voice betrayed him. Sybil couldn't find the words to comfort him, so instead she leant forward and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. Her hand crept to the back of his neck as she let her fingers play into his soft hair; Tom could feel his lips part in anticipation as her moist tongue entered his mouth in a playful manner; his hand unconsciously rested on her thigh and she breathed out a hopeless moan as she felt him relax into her. Eventually, she parted from him long enough for her to suck in a few breathes.

"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," she told him sternly as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip. Tom closed his eyes and relished the warmth that passed between them. "I love you, and Larry will need to do a whole lot more to get rid of me. We're in this together now, right?"

Tom grinned and allowed his hand to move to her flat stomach; no matter how distasteful their affair might have seemed to others, they would be able to look back and tell their child that they were made from love. "Together."

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading! I know, what a weird chapter! I'm sorry if a lot of this didn't make sense - because unlike normal people, my inspiration usually comes in the middle of the night when I should be curled up in bed! I really appreciated everyone's reviews this week because it was a down week for me and all the nice comments kept me going until I got home at the weekend! Tomorrow is **DOWNTON DAY**, so obviously I will be updating between tonight and tomorrow night as I will be going back to Belfast on Monday with my friend for Halloween. And yes, there_will _be a **HALLOWEEN SPECIAL**. Stay tuned!

I thought I would also take the time to reply to some of my frequent followers at the moment. I don't have the time to reply to everyone but I will try and address some of you at the end of each chapter.

**The Yankee Countess: **Thank you for your lovely reviews and speculations once more! Sometimes I think you're like a mind-reader will all those predictions; I do have a lot of this story written out in my head, so it's all about getting it into the correct words. I agree that Edith doesn't get enough recognition, so you will be content to hear that she will play quite a big part in my story with Sybil. As much as I love Mary, I wanted Edith to have a prime role in this story and as it is an AU, I can do that without it being unrealistic to anyone's character! TEAM EDITH. I would very much like to take you up on your Macbeth offer, I am so behind this week on lectures, ah! Romeo and Juliet is my speciality, unfortunately! Thanks for all the good wishes and thanks for sticking with this story!

**gothamgirl28: **Thanks for your reviews on my story and sticking with it! I'm feeling much better, thank you! Hence the update! I'll try and update this each day, and sometimes twice a day depending on my muse! I loved your comments on the character's reactions as I was quite nervous about this - it is a modern AU after all, which means that it is up to me to decipher what each character's reaction would be. I believed that Sybil's breakdown was understandable as a young woman in her early twenties with the whole world at her fingertips. I really did love Tom's reaction as he didn't quite know how to take it at first, but what was really concrete in his mind was that he would stay with her and look after them both. I hope you enjoy the latest update!

** : **Thanks for the follow on tumblr and recommending my story, it was much needed! And yes, my worry matched yours even though I knew that both would survive. However, as I'm a bit mental with writing sometimes, it could've gone very differently! Thank you for sticking with the story and I hope that you enjoy the updates to come! Don't worry, Larry will get his just deserts!

Thanks for reading everyone, and please take the time to review for a poor student who looks forward to them very much! 3


	10. Mutual Acquaintances

**DISCLAIMER: I'm pretty sure that my name is Christina, not Julian. Kay? ;] **

**A/N: **TWO UPDATES IN ONE NIGHT. Yes, I do get inspiration in the wee hours of the night. So those who have not read the last chapter, well done, you have two chapters to read now! How exciting! I rather like this chapter because I kind of concentrated on Larry and how utterly mental he is - he obviously has some problems in his mind; Tom does get some relief in this chapter, but he will be back for more just deserts! I didn't mean for Sybil/Tom sexytimes in this chapter, but it seems that these characters have a mind of their own. _Beware _of bad language and sexytimes!

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The entire house seemed to be airless and unventilated. His skin was covered in a film of sweat and his mouth felt waterless and dried out. However, he preferred the stifling heat of his own home rather than the small room at the police station that he had been forced to sit in for endless hours as the officers at the scene waited for Sybil to come out of unconsciousness in order to question her. The police had informed him that it was necessary for them to question him as the husband of the victim, but he was quite sure that it was that damn Irish driver that had put his name out there for scrutiny.

"This is ridiculous," he uttered to his lawyer, who sat next to him with a calm countenance. "It was an obvious accident. It should be that bloody driver in here, he was paid for the maintenance of the cars and look at what has occurred…"

"I wouldn't be concerned with all this – a mere precaution." His lawyer had not been incorrect in his assumption as the police were soon to release him due to lack of evidence with his involvement with the incident whatsoever. However, now that he sat in the house alone with the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed, he could think back on his actions and feel an overwhelming sense of shame. He couldn't take it back now, but his mind had been so set at the time…she needed to be punished.

Larry could feel his shoulders shake with relentless sobs once more as he sank his head into his hands; his nails burrowed into his flesh as he tried to push his irritation to the back of his mind. He couldn't deal with the information that the police had told him – his wife almost hadn't made it and was in critical condition. He had been released after hours of complaints that he needed to visit his wife in hospital – but he knew that he wouldn't be able to set foot inside the ward without having to look at her face and feel the shame that came with his unusual tendencies.

He couldn't remember being like this. He had always been more sensitive to anger than others, but Larry would never have expected that he would go to this extent. In one element of his mind, he wanted to run to the hospital and make sure that his childhood friend was still alive. However, on the other hand, he felt a white-hot fury that he wanted to take out on the driver's face. He wanted to hit him until he couldn't move, until he couldn't kiss his wife…he wanted to feel the warmth of his blood on his knuckles and feel satisfaction.

Larry shook his head, almost as if he were attempting to shake away the thoughts that inundated him. He could almost feel the beads of sweat running down his neck as he continued to shake his head; his chest felt taut and he reached out for the remote control. He switched on the television and turned up the volume until he couldn't concentrate on the dangerous thoughts that swirled around in his mind. How did he come to be in this position? In this one perfect moment, he had it all – a wife of noble birth and rank, enough cash to fund him for the rest of his lifetime and the usual lover that one would take now and then to fulfil the sexual needs that all men possess.

The doorbell sounded, as if on cue with his thoughts. However, the blaring sound of the football match on the television drowned out the troublesome noise. The woman at the door pressed the bell numerous times, until she resorted to using her fist against the front door, much to no avail. Larry looked towards the coffee table as his phone vibrated against the dark wood. The familiar name on the screen pushed him to answer his mobile as he reached forward and clutched it in his hand. He answered the call and held the phone to his ear, but couldn't find the words to speak.

"I'm outside; I can see the car in the drive. Come and answer the door."

Larry smiled at her authoritarian tone; something he had become familiar with in the past few months. He admired her, he yearned for her, but he wanted her to leave him alone at that moment when he was wallowing in his own demented mind.

"I'm not in the mood at the moment," he hissed in return. However, his own secret lover didn't seem to be in the mood for _his _antics either as she hammered on the door once more with her fist. Larry groaned and rose from the couch so that he could pull himself out to the hall and answer the door. He pulled the front door open with a vacant expression and tried to dismiss the fact that his eyes were red and his facial features were as false as his fabricated lies.

The fiery blonde pushed past him as she burst into the house; her heels echoed around the house as she marched into the living room and used the remote to switch off the blaring sound of the television in the background. She turned back to face the married man with two hands on her sides. She could see through his cold exterior as she had the same cool and calculated expressions that she often had to use in situations. Larry leant on the door frame and looked down at his nails with a lack of interest.

"I had to receive my news second-hand…you wouldn't answer my calls," she accused him as she marched towards him and parked herself in front of him. Larry was forced to look down at the fuming woman without a hint of emotion on his face. "You never told me that your wife was having an affair…not that you can say much on that. Look, we haven't spoken in a week. I was worried, so I came around… at least give me something that will tell me that you're….fine."

Larry could feel the irritation creeping back into his mind as he yearned to reach out and clutch onto her throat; he just wanted her to shut her mouth. How would she have any idea about what he had to put himself through in the past weeks? However, before he had the chance to unleash his anger on the woman in front of him, someone else had started to pound on his door in the most ridiculous manner.

"Oh, am I to be tortured with this all week?" Larry spat as he thankfully moved away from the fuming blonde and went to the door for a meagre distraction. However, he found that he should have remained hidden away in his living room as he opened the door to the one person that he had a mind to avoid as much as he could.

Tom attacked him before he could open his mouth to produce a clever remark. The driver had him pinned against the wall in a matter of seconds. Tom's face was red and Larry could see from the cuts and bruises on his face that he didn't have a jolly time at it from the incident either. It would only have been a matter of time before he came around to the house with a weapon of some kind to send him to an early grave.

"Oh, do come into my home," Larry smirked as Tom looked as if he were about to slam his head into the wall. Instead, he settled for extending his arm and punching him square in the face. Larry touched his nose and looked back down at his hand and was bemused to find that his fingers were doused in a dark crimson liquid.

"I'm not in the mood to play your games, _sir_," Tom hissed into his ear as he clutched his throat and held him against the wall. His body weight was pressed against him and Larry could hear Tom's laboured breath and he shoved against him forcefully. The Irishman stumbled, but his anger was enough to fuel his energy as his hand connected with his jaw once more. Larry spat blood onto the expensive cream rug in the hall and turned back to look at Tom with fury masked on his expression.

"Tom?" The driver was momentarily stunned as he heard the familiar voice come from behind him. He turned and almost found himself laughing as he looked into the face of the woman that he broke off his relationship with. "I thought that was you."

"Caroline." Tom's voice was low and almost inaudible as he looked between his ex-girlfriend and his current girlfriend's husband – he could have laughed if he didn't feel like his insides were on fire. Sybil was in bed and he had left momentarily to cure this never-ending fury that burned in his veins since the incident with the car.

"Oh, splendid, you know one another?" Larry seemed to fall back into the conversation as he dabbed at his war wounds with the sleeve of his shirt. "Should I leave and make some tea or would someone care to explain?"

"We are old acquaintances…" Tom hissed as he turned back to Larry with every intention of finishing what he started. However, Caroline sauntered in between both men and tried to fend off the violence with a small smirk.

"I'm insulted, Tommy," she crooned as she reached out and touched his shoulder. Tom winced at the contact and quickly shook her off. Caroline turned back to Larry with an amused expression. "Tom and I used to be quite close indeed."

Larry could feel his fists clench with anger as she came in between them; he would have been content to throw her aside and take back whatever pride that remained. However, this new piece of information intrigued him as his brow rose in surprise. Oh, how their worlds seemed to collide so much.

"Hmm, so my driver is fucking my wife whilst I am seeing his ex – this is an interesting turn of events, don't you think?" Larry commented with a smirk.

Tom wanted to turn and shake Caroline; to talk some sense into her. How could she be with a man that doesn't respect anyone but himself? She had wanted Tom to ask her to marry him for months, and now she settled with being a little bit on the side? He couldn't understand her logic in the entire situation, but she wasn't his responsibility now – his responsibility lay with the woman who was back in his bed with his child inside her.

"I couldn't give a shit about what you do in your own time, but I _do _care about Sybil. I think we both know that the malfunction with the brakes was no accident – it doesn't take a fucking genius to understand that. But know this…I won't allow you to harm her once more. Whatever kind of satisfaction you get from the fact that she almost died in the middle of the road, get it sorted. If you don't get put away for this, be sure to know that I'll be making your life a living Hell."

Caroline seemed taken aback at the sudden protective growl that came from him; but Larry stood there without one emotion flitting across his face. Tom didn't remain to hear his retort – he wouldn't be able to control himself if he stayed a minute more. He dismissed the sound of Caroline's voice calling to him as he rushed out of the house and into the bitter wind of the London atmosphere.

* * *

Tom unravelled each layer of clothing in the bedroom when he arrived back at the flat. His mind worked overtime as he continued to wonder how Larry ever became involved with a beautician – it was almost like fate was handing him out the worst week in his life all at once. His existence had been so nice for some time, it was about time he was due a bit of shit to hit the fan. He winced as he pulled off his shirt and threw it to the floor without looking back at it; he knew how much it irked Sybil, but he was sure that he would pass out on the carpet if he didn't climb into bed soon. Tom moved out of his loose jeans and heard the _jingle _of coins in his pocket when the fabric hit the floor; he started to walk towards the bed when he was rid of all clothing bar his underwear.

He peeled back the duvet and tried to slip under the covers as discreetly as he could, but Sybil turned around in bed to face him as soon as he was in the blankets. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line of dissatisfaction as she took in his shameful expression and immediately knew that he left the flat to visit Larry.

"Hmm, will you ever learn to listen to me?" she murmured from her cocoon as she squirmed out of her swaddle of blankets to sink into his side. Sybil's hand travelled across his firm stomach and she rested her chin on his shoulder as she peered up at him under heavy lashes. "You look sad."

Tom smiled at her intuitiveness and he leant forward to press a kiss to her lips. She nuzzled into him happily, but she still looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, love, I should have listened. But he needed to know that we knew it was him and that he won't get away with that…you could have died, Sybil."

"I know, but I didn't. I still think that you should have kept your distance, but thank you…for defending me when I didn't ask you to," she murmured with pride laced into her tone. Sybil caressed the skin on his stomach with her soft hand as she watched him with a curious expression on her beautiful, bruised features. "There's more…"

"I often wish that you couldn't read me like a book," he muttered with a chuckle as he reached out to push her messy fringe out of her shimmering blue orbs. "He…had a woman with him when I came around to the house."

Sybil snorted at the comment but didn't seem fazed at the revelation. She had mentioned to him on several occasions that she knew that he had a woman on the side, but it meant nothing to her as long as she didn't have to perform for him.

"That doesn't seem to shock me, darling."

"It shocked me…" Tom paused for a moment as he calculated whether or not he should inform his girlfriend on his latest piece of information. In the end, his blatant honesty with her won and he unconsciously stroked her hair as he explained. "Do you remember the woman I was telling you about? We lived together for a while…" Sybil shifted awkwardly next to him but nodded her head at his question. "She was the woman that I saw at the house."

"Oh…" Sybil couldn't seem to find the words to say to him at that moment. Instead, she settled with a mere smile as she settled next to him comfortably. "Is she pretty?"

Tom could feel his eyebrows shoot into the air at her sudden question. He never thought that she minded about the woman that Larry was with – but perhaps she was quite bothered with the fact that he was with another woman?

"I didn't think that mattered to you when it came to Larry's lover…"

"No, it doesn't, but she _must _be pretty if you asked her to live with you."

His mouth pulled into a small discreet smile as he watched her nose twitch in irritation. It was quite adorable as she pretended that it didn't bother her, but he guessed that the sudden appearance of his ex-girlfriend on the scene would unnerve her, even more so after the trauma she went through in the accident.

"Do I detect a little bit of jealousy?" he asked as he tried to contain his smile.

"I don't understand what I have to be jealous of. I do believe that _I'm _the one in bed with you at the moment, Mr Branson," she huffed in response. "However, if there _is _something to be jealous about, you had better let me know."

Sybil sulked for another moment until she moved away from Tom and settled back on her own pillow with a little sniff of annoyance. How could she rest when she knew that Tom's flawless ex-girlfriend was back on the scene? She remembered that Tom told her that he had been the one to break off the relationship. It made sense; who would want to break up with him? He was perfection to her. In the mind of a female, it was evident that any woman would prefer the Irishman in bed next to her rather than the pompous git that she had married eight months previously. Sybil knew that she would be _fat _in a few months – and who would want her then?

"Ah, come on, love," Tom moaned in protest as he looked at her back. "There is no need for all that. I chose to break it off with Caroline because we had _nothing _in common – besides, how could any woman compare to you?"

Sybil chewed on her cheek as his words reached her; her cheeks bid a secret blush in the dark as she listened to him shuffle over to her in the blankets. His hand was on her waist and his warm body was pressed against her back; the mere caress of his calloused hand was enough to unhinge her and she unconsciously nuzzled her backside against him. In return, she was met with a husky moan from him.

"And no-one could emit a response like that from me, _milady_," he murmured into her ear as he kissed that sensitive spot beneath her ear and gently nibbled on her earlobe as she breathed heavily at the sudden desire that pooled between her legs. It was almost like they were transported back to that first night in her old flat when all she could see was her desire for him – she didn't care about the consequences that night; all that mattered was that he wanted her and she wanted him just as badly.

It was like something had snapped inside Sybil and she suddenly scrambled towards him like a child towards birthday cake – her mouth watered and her limbs ached with desire as her hand went to the back of his neck. Sybil pulled him towards her until she could capture his lips in a tantalizing kiss that made both of them groan in satisfaction. Tom already had his fingers hooked into the quaint little panties that she often wore to bed and she squirmed out of them in anticipation; she dismissed the tank top that she wore…she had one destination in mind that evening.

"Well, this has been a curious night," he muttered against her insistent lips as his fingers sought her throbbing core. Sybil almost snorted at the comment and murmured something that resembled "it's not over yet" – he wasn't quite sure, as her words were interrupted with a earth-shattering moan. His finger pushed between her soft folds and she arched her hips into his hand at the mere contact.

"Sybil…" he moaned against her neck as she continued to move desperately against him. "You are so…" He couldn't seem to finish his sentence as her hands were immediately at his own underwear; she was ridiculously slow and enticing as she pulled down his boxers to free the pressing hardness that she had felt against her thigh. Did he mention that Sybil didn't seem to possess the virtue of patience?

"Ready?" She finished his sentence for him as she moved to hover over her with tenderness; kissing each inch of her face. "Exactly, so shall we get a move on?" Sybil was pressed against him in anticipation and his entire body melted as his manhood came into contact with her tantalizingly wet folds. He couldn't contain his own excitement, but he looked down at her in concern. Sybil could sense his hesitation, and so she took matters into her own hands, _literally_. The bold trainee nurse reached between them and guided him to her entrance – that was all the invitation he needed.

His entire body seemed to tremble in pleasure as he slid inside her easily; so used to this frequent occurrence that it was like second nature to him now. The clumsy fumbling had diminished a few weeks into their relationship and now both were entirely comfortable with the other's body. Tom's pace was achingly slow at the start; however, Sybil was intent on receiving her fill of him in a short space of time. She needed to feel _more _of him…all of him.

Tom was rather sure that his eyes popped out of his head when Sybil reached down and cupped his backside; no, he would never become accustomed to her bold moves now and then – her shy demeanour had been demolished in that first night. This move seemed to spur him on that much more; his face was pressed into her neck as he moved inside her at a quicker and more anticipating pace. Sybil let her nails drag over the skin on his backside and threw her head back as she felt herself reaching that peak in which she felt like she had died and gone to Heaven with him.

"Please, Tom…" she moaned into his ear as his pace quickened that bit more at the end. Their release was mutual and tremendous as Sybil cried out when she reached her climax; Tom couldn't handle more than a whimper as their worlds seemed to crash around them when they came back to Earth.

Both parties were exhausted after the unexpected, but equally pleasurable events. However, Tom took the time to press a dazzling kiss to her lips; "God, I do love you so much." He would never tire of hearing those words pour from his lips so naturally – but it meant even more when he heard them being uttered back to him in earnest. Tom pulled out of her gently and collapsed in the spot next to her on the bed. Sybil managed to gather the last of her strength as she crawled over to him and nestled into his side; his arm came around her and she kissed his bare shoulder.

"I was never really _that _jealous, you know…" she murmured.

Tom chuckled and squeezed her in consolation. "She couldn't compare."

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**A/N: **In some of the reviews that I received for the last chapter there were some concerns in my portrayal of Mary's character. She hasn't been introduced properly at the moment, so do not fear! No, she will not be a pleasant bunny in the first half of this story as she will disapprove greatly of the relationship between her sister and the driver - she doesn't want her sister to lose her reputation and becomes even more critical when she finds out about the pregnancy (not many know about that at the moment)! However, I do respect Mary's character and she will warm up to Sybil and Tom's relationship throughout this story - however, I have to remain true to her character and have her expected coldness towards Tom in the beginning. I don't dislike Mary, I'm just trying to portray the fact that this is a match that is not well looked upon!

Your reviews really do cheer up my days, so please read, review and pass it on! 3


	11. Locked Bathrooms

**DISCLAIMER: The name is Christina, not Julian. **

**A/N: **I know that this chapter has taken so long, and I do apologise to all my readers! My granny has gone into hospital with a stroke and I was quite busy with other personal things - however, I have not forgotten about this story and plan to continue it. Due to the wait, this will be my longest chapter yet, as all of you readers deserve it after such a long wait! Thank you for all of the reviews, and please continue to review! I need a little bit of sunshine at the moment! (:

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It was the sound of the shower that roused her from her peaceful slumber. Sybil stretched out like an indolent cat and threw back the covers so that her slender form could meet the bitter coldness that came with the British morning; Tom was relentless in his complaints about the breeze coming from the window when it was closed, but she loved to walk around on the freezing wooden floor and adored the sound of the whistle whenever the wind was fierce outside and she was curled in bed next to him. She was satisfied that the dull curtains had been drawn for once, as she didn't bother with the silken robe that was adorned over the chest at the end of the bed.

Her naked form was decorated with several cuts and bruises that she now described as battle scars from the car incident – however, Tom found it harder to look at them after the traumatic thoughts of her assumed death at the time. But he became more lenient to them after he noticed that Sybil tried to shield him from her body; she would cover her bare flesh whenever he came into the room and flash him a mere smile. He knew that she didn't want him to be uncomfortable around her or come to hate her body; it was quite the contrary. He could revere to her slender curves for the rest of eternity.

Tom shivered as he wandered out of the attached bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist; but it was the scene in front of him that halted him in his tracks. Sybil was bent over the chest of drawers as she rooted around in the middle drawer for what seemed to be her underwear – however, to no avail; she straightened and looked behind her at the peeping Tom, literally. She quirked an eyebrow and continued about her business as if wandering around his flat in the nude was the most natural action in the entire world.

"I can't seem to remember where I threw all my clothes," she huffed as she sauntered towards the bedroom door with a sour expression. "No matter, I'll make breakfast first and then find something pretty to wear – we should head out today."

Sybil didn't seem to wait for a response from her stunned boyfriend as she flitted out of the room and into the kitchen. Tom stood in the bedroom with his mouth ajar, not quite sure whether to follow and have his wicked way with her or to dress himself. However, being a normal bloke, he went with the first option and wandered after his unclothed lover with a delirious expression pasted onto his handsome features.

The sound of a brisk knock on the door brought him out of his desire-filled reverie, however. His mouth pulled into a troubled frown as he wondered he would have come in from the front door; someone could have let them in, or it could have been someone who had keys in the first place…he didn't have long to ponder on the matter as three more knocks were directed onto the poor door. Tom could hear Sybil's amused snickers from across the kitchen as she darted across the cold linoleum floor and threw herself into his arms – the fact that she was nude _did _cross his mind.

"Don't answer it," she moaned against his lips as she kissed him with all the fervour of someone with an insatiable appetite. Tom could feel his mind giving in to her persistence; but the knocking continued and he could feel his cheeks turn red with both annoyance and embarrassment if someone, like his sister, walked in on them.

"It might be important." But his tone was strained as he looked between her and the door; almost like he wanted to dash and see who was at the door and what the hell they wanted, but at the same time he would like nothing more than to take his eager girlfriend right there on the dining table. Yes, it was quite the dilemma.

Sybil seemed to make the decision for him as she rolled her eyes dramatically and clutched onto his coat on the kitchen counter. She threw it around herself; her little arms looking tiny in the long sleeves – it was almost like a dress on her and Tom thought that he had never been more aroused in his entire life as he watched Sybil walk to the door in nothing but his coat. Her smile remained intact as she opened the door and looked out at the persistent visitor; the blonde smiled in return.

"You must be Sybil," her voice was calculated as she looked at the unclad woman that had answered the door to her old flat. Her dark chestnut curls were mussed and despite the fact that there were several fading bruises around her face and neck, she was rather beautiful – and it infuriated the blonde that stood outside the door. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Caroline."

Caroline held her hand out to the half-naked girlfriend of her ex, but it took Sybil a moment to decide whether or not to be polite towards her husband's lover. However, her polite nature won over and she briefly shook her hand – trying not to think about the fact that this woman shared the bed of both of the men in her life. Instead, she smiled her usual dazzling smile and silently thanked those acting classes she took as a rebellious sixteen-year-old.

"How wonderful to meet you," Sybil gushed. She leant against the doorframe, refusing to open the door further for the woman. "I'm so sorry…but might I ask who you are?" Her expression was a mask of sheer obliviousness that seemed to be convincing, as she noticed how Caroline clenched her fists at the comment.

Sybil had planned to construct more damage, but she suddenly felt Tom's arm around her waist in a comforting manner. It must have looked quite the picture to an outsider – a handsome Tom with just a towel around his waist with his arm around a half-naked Sybil who was dressed in only a coat that dangled around her bare thighs. His face was assembled with infuriation as he took in the smug expression of his ex-girlfriend at the door. He knew that it wouldn't be easy to shake her off ever since he seen her the previous night; she always had a bit of an addiction to him – always peculiar with him around other women and possessive.

"What are you doing here, Caroline?" His voice was cold and calculating.

"Is that how you treat an old friend, Tommy?"

"We're not friends."

He didn't respond to her sweet smiles. Instead, he tightened his hold on Sybil as she took in the self-satisfied woman in front of them. Her blonde hair was twisted into an intricate bun at the back of her head and her bronzed skin was painted perfectly to suit her beautician profession. The sunglasses tucked into her shirt and the ridiculous heels didn't seem to appeal to Sybil at all; and she somehow wondered how on earth Tom could have found her attractive. Well, she was _generally_ attractive, but she always believed that the Irishman preferred personality over appearance.

"If you must know, I came to apologise for what went on last night," she said confidently; her gaze flickered to Sybil with a raised brow. "I was in shock, if I'm honest; I haven't seen you in quite some time…"

"There is a reason for that," Tom replied with a rueful smile.

"Is there a chance we can talk alone for a while?" Her hands came together in front as she looked between Sybil and Tom with a false smile. However, Tom scoffed aloud at the idea, much to the surprise of his girlfriend. Sybil lifted her chin and looked at him with questions aligning each inch of her beautiful features. Tom didn't look down at her – his gaze was unwavering with a hint of a warning on his straight-lined smile.

"I don't think so," he murmured carefully. His voice was slow – almost as if he willed her to understand that she wasn't welcome there. Tom could feel his patience deteriorate as she loitered there with her piercing emerald orbs that mirrored her own toxic nature. He wouldn't discuss past matters in front of Sybil; nor did he expect Caroline to ever show up at his door looking for a civilised conversation.

"Understandable." She turned on her heel and walked with her tail between her legs to the staircase that would lead her out of the building. However, after short deliberation, she turned around and looked at Sybil, before shifting her gaze to her covered stomach. "Oh, and I should say congratulations."

On that note, the visit was terminated and the couple were left in the doorway. Tom could sense that she was irritated – he could feel the waves of anger radiate from her as she turned and marched back into the flat. Her bare feet smacked against the linoleum floor and her dark curls billowed behind her as she disappeared into the kitchen; Tom could hear the clattering sound of dishes and her faint murmuring as she bustled around the small room with a box of cereal in her trembling hand.

He leant against the doorframe in the kitchen and watched her; his mind was full of chaos as he wondered over whether or not to inform Sybil about his ex's slight obsession with him, but his heart was full of awe as he watched her in his home. She was still adorned with his coat around her naked form; her beautiful legs were stretched as she reached for a bowl on the top shelf; her hand would flit across her abdomen now and then, almost as if to remind herself that there was another being in there. She was his best friend, his confidante, his comfort, his lover and the mother of his child – he couldn't and wouldn't be untruthful to her.

"I should have listened to you last night – I shouldn't have gone around there." His frustrated groan mirrored his dislike for his own idiocy as he sat at the kitchen table. He shivered at the bitter air that surrounded the room; but he was soon cocooned in warmth as her arms came around his shoulders from behind. Sybil's chin rested on his shoulder and he smiled at the sensation of her warm breath on his skin.

"You should start to learn that I'm hardly ever wrong," she teased as she pressed a chaste and loving kiss to his broad shoulder. Her hands roamed over the blond hairs on his chest and she felt the satisfied rumble in his chest.

"She doesn't know when to move on and cut the ties from the past. I was young and foolish when I met her – she was a little older than me, beautiful and alluring – I fell into her ensnare like a bee to honey. I had just moved here and she provided me with a roof over my head, food and frequent sex. What stupid idiot wouldn't fall for that? But she was possessive…obsessive even. I had to leave, Sybil…"

She hushed him with a kiss to his neck, but her sweet kisses didn't end there. Sybil created a moist trail across his chiselled jaw and she could hear him exhale softly. She eventually moved so that she could slide onto his lap and press a kiss to his willing, parted lips. His breath was warm and she moaned into his mouth; how could he resist her when she was so _her_?

"You don't need to explain it all to me," she mumbled when she finally broke from the kiss to inhale and exhale softly. "It's in the past now, and we have to move forward. I don't know about you, but I'm quite excited to move forward."

Tom grinned and ensnared his bare arms around her. He rather lost track of his previous thoughts as her delicate hands moved beneath the soft towel around his waist; those gentle hands took him away to a whole other world.

* * *

She was positive that she adored all features of their sexual life, but she had a particular sweetness towards their pillow talk. She would curl into a ball that fit against him seamlessly, with her dark curls billowed around her like a halo and her blue orbs shining in ecstasy after their previous antics. Tom would lie on his side and face her as she nuzzled into him comfortably; his blond hair was dishevelled and he would run his fingers across the soft skin of her stomach. However, the conversation had moved to more dangerous terrain as she mentioned that her family would hold a social event that week on Halloween.

"I know that you didn't have the best start with them – but I love my parents, you don't know them. I love my sisters and my friends, and I'm sure that they will come to embrace you when they know more about you. I still haven't told them about the baby, and I'm not sure when…I'm sure Larry will reveal it soon enough."

Tom could sense the desperation in her voice that she was trying so hard to conceal. Her hands were shaking as she reached forward and brushed his moist hair from his piercing blue eyes that seemed to search her facial features for a chink in her armour. He could read her like a book and despite the fact that he would rather gouge out his eyes than attend some posh ball at her parent's house, he knew how much she missed them and would never refuse her if she was persistent.

"If it means so much to you, then I'll come."

"It won't be more than an hour or so and…" Sybil faltered as she realised that he had actually consented to her invitation without argument. "Do you really mean it, Tom? I mean, I wouldn't force you, but I would love it if you would come…" Her smile was dazzling as she sunk her face into his neck in a soft embrace.

"I know that this hasn't been the most conventional relationship, and sometimes I kick myself for succumbing to it all when you were still married. But god, I am glad that my self-control crumbled when I first saw you that morning. I don't want to be the sordid lover that seduced you behind your husband's back – I want to be with you, and love you, and devote every waking minute to _your _happiness."

Her smile was unabashed as she pressed a lingering kiss to his throat; she could feel the hum of satisfaction come from him as her naked form nuzzled into him.

"I'm _terribly_ flattered," she chuckled. However, her facial features betrayed her as her entire expression was lit like a Christmas tree. With their legs tangled, she buried her feet between his to gather warmth and her cheeks flushed with excitement as she listened to the words over and over in her mind. Oh, how she loved him.

Tom snorted at the posh remark and tightened his arm around her. The sheets were strewn around them in a dishevelled state as both lovers lay perfectly content in each other's arms – he couldn't have imagined being this exultant with anyone. He had a few girlfriends over the years and a soul-destroying one that came with Caroline; he almost laughed at the fact that he had been considering going back to Ireland the week before he received the call from Larry Grey. He could have been back in Dublin. But instead, much to his delight, he was curled up in bed with the woman he loved.

* * *

Her mobile buzzed persistently on the coffee table. She tried to dismiss it the first few times, but she found it hard to resist the intrigue that came with each text message. It seems that her separation from her husband didn't remain such a secret after all the socialites in London came together for her mother's social event. Her friends were either shocked or offended when the news spread that she had run off with the Irish driver. She had scoffed when she received a stream of texts that revolved around their offence over the fact that she hadn't informed anyone of her affair.

_What is the point of a sordid affair without giving the details to your girlfriends?_

Sybil dismissed them all; no doubt she would meet them in an hour or so at the ball. However, it was the best wishes from one of her dearest friends that she could not set aside. Gwen had left an endearing voicemail that had almost left Sybil in tears – it had been at least a year since she had last seen the budding secretary. She had been one of her closest friends whenever she had lived with her parents; she had been one of their few maids at Downton and Sybil had christened her as her best friend, much to her parent's shock and disappointment. Instead of having tea parties and luncheon with the more well-bred ladies around the estate, Sybil was seen having races and sleepovers with the redheaded maid. But Sybil was never one for social statuses.

"I haven't met any of your friends," Tom mused after she explained to him about the bombardment that will be expected on them when they arrive.

"Most of them are much too posh for my taste – I mean, I love them all and I would never swap them for the world, but I never had time for them whenever they are up their own arse," she retorted with a raised brow.

Tom grinned at her charm with words as he admired his costume in the mirror. He combed his hair carefully to the side and listened to the gentle hum of the music coming from the stereo – it had become quite the routine whenever Tom and Sybil came home from their outings to just sit back and listen to music after dinner.

"How do I look?" His tone was amused as he turned around to look at her. Sybil grinned as she took in the costume that he decided to wear that night.

"I know its Halloween and all that, but isn't it slightly ironic?"

"I think it suits me _very _well," he grinned. Tom fixed the collar on the green jacket and his girlfriend took a moment to skim over the costume with amusement fixated on her beautiful features. She remembered him telling her about how the last old lady he worked for was _quite _old-fashioned and often had him wear the uniform whenever she had guests come to dine with her – 'I wouldn't have worn it if she hadn't paid me so much' he had explained to her. But she had to agree that it did suit him well. The chauffeur uniform was a dark emerald that seemed to bring out the blueness of his eyes; the trousers were ridiculous but he described them as 'airy and pleasant'.

"I'm sure my father will have a thing or two to say about it," she smirked.

"I think we will be a bit late because of the traffic in town, but we can call it fashionably late, can we not?" he teased as he came to sit down on the couch.

"I'm late for most things, don't fret about it," she chuckled. "How do I look?"

Sybil rose from the couch after spending more than twenty minutes on her make-up; he really couldn't understand how someone could spend so much time on one eye, and then the equal amount of time on the other eye. However, he could soon see the difference as she posed in front of him – she seemed to dazzle him with a mere smile. She was clad in a soft blue costume that rather reminded him of Arabian Nights. Her brown curls were crowned with a beautiful headpiece and the entire attire was framed with the silken harem pants that flowed around her long legs.

"Mm, you suit it quite well." He mirrored his own words as he rose from the couch and ensnared his arms around her small waist. "In fact, good enough to eat."

Sybil squealed in delight as he adorned her neck with moist kisses; his hands were urgent as they roamed her curves with desire. However, she was the first to pull away with a stern expression; her brow was creased and she poked him once on the chest.

"I don't think I spent two hours putting this on just for you to take it off, sir."

"But there _is _tonight…"

Sybil didn't argue.

* * *

Tom couldn't wrap his mind around the soiree that was set out in front of him. He was awe-struck at the entire scene, but he would much rather be at the pub with a few mates nursing a beer in his hand, with his arm around the most beautiful woman in the room. However, he would endure torture if it meant that he could see a smile on her face – it had started with general conversation and dancing and then dinner had been served around the massive hall, and then the auction would start for the charity. But as much as Sybil adored being around her family and friends, Tom could easily see that she did not fit in to the entire scene as she should. Her fire was not to be tamed, no matter how many opponents she had at the one table.

"I just feel that we should be doing more than sitting around drinking wine and bidding on expensive items for the soldiers," she announced at the table. "I know that the money will be used for important things, but I feel that a more practical approach is needed when our soldiers are out there risking their lives."

"Bravo," Isobel commented from her seat as she listened intently; Tom remembered that Sybil had pointed her out as Mary's future mother-in-law. "Very well said."

However, Isobel seemed to be the sole person at the table who spoke out. The rest seemed to be lost in their wine or other light topics of conversation; but with a light squeeze on her hand under the table, Sybil felt elated once more. At least she could always count on him to be one of her true supporters.

The entire night had almost avoided catastrophe, but there was the matter of her family. She knew that they would not make a fuss in front of all of their friends, but her father was less than pleased that Sybil chose to attend the ball with her secret lover – or so Tom had come to be known. Both of them had dismissed the whispers and continued with their evening, until Granny made an appearance.

Her walking stick was set deliberately against Tom's seat – there was no escape.

"You look like a cousin of mine, in his younger days. He rather looks like a young Albert; don't you think so, Robert?" Granny must have spent about fifteen minutes scrutinising him without so much as a word spoken to him directly. Sybil would have intercepted and saved him from such a fate, but no-one interrupted Granny.

"You have put my granddaughter in quite a difficult position." She finally spoke to him directly, but without malice or judgement in her polished tone.

"I understand, ma'am." His voice was strained, but he concentrated on the warm hand in his underneath the table. She stroked the back of his hand with her soft thumb. "It was never my intention to bring such scandal to her…reputation."

"It rather comes with the territory when one has an affair, does it not?"

"Sybil was incredibly unhappy in her relationship with her husband; she would have left him with me or without me."

She could sense the tension rising in his voice and she smiled sweetly at her grandmother; she knew that Granny meant well, but she didn't quite seem to grasp the fact that others liked to keep their own business to themselves.

"Isn't this dangerous territory to tread on such a joyful night? Look, everyone around us is having fun whilst we sulk in the corner – I'm sure there is time for the family to get to know Tom a little better after tonight," Sybil concluded.

Granny spent another half hour quizzing Tom on his background. She decided that he was related to the Branson's in Cork, to which Sybil excused them from the table.

* * *

The dance floor was alive with moving bodies as Sybil pulled the overwhelmed Irishman by the hand; there were a few heads that turned in interest as the couple moved towards the door to the main ballroom. She decided that Granny was not the worst candidate for the scrutiny; it would have been much worse if Mary decided to pull them aside, but she was much too busy with the endless admiration adorned on her. Her father had decided to dismiss them all night, which suited her just fine. She was sure that the evening would have been a flop if it wasn't for the kindness shown to Tom by her mother and Edith, whenever she came to say hello.

Sybil pushed the door open and felt the cool air surround her in the hall; the sounds of the ballroom seemed so far away now as she pulled him towards the bathroom. The sound of her clicking heels echoed in the hall as she rounded a corner and he followed her down a deserted corridor that somehow made him uneasy. Tom watched her with interest as she pulled him along like a doll – he didn't complain, as it was much preferred to the judgemental looks that were thrown to him each second in there. However, he found the silence unnerving and soon broke it with his soft lilt.

"You know how much I like your impulsiveness, love, but where are we going?"

"To the bathroom," she replied in a breezy tone.

Tom raised an eyebrow and looked behind him; the corridor was still deserted. However, this was the first time that a woman had ever dragged him into a bathroom; well he was positive that it had occurred in one of his endless fantasies.

"Don't you want to go home…?" His sentence was broken with a sharp tug from her. She used her free hand to work on the handle of the wooden door, and eventually accessed the spacious bathroom that she knew would be left abandoned from the stream of guests that only knew about the main bathroom on the first floor.

Her smirk was mischievous as she spun around after turning the brass lock on the door. Tom wasn't sure whether or not to run from this new side of his sweet Sybil, or to embrace it and pray that she didn't break him in her need for closeness. Her hands were on his chest as she worked at the intricate buttons on his uniform and her mouth worked on his neck as he tried not to make a feral noise at the back of his throat.

"You did wonderful back there," she murmured against his jaw-line. Her breath was warm and came out in sharp gusts as she reached for his hat and removed it from him. Tom's honey-coloured hair was mussed and hung over his eyes in the most adorable manner she could ever imagine. "God, I do love you," she moaned in protest.

It was almost like her heart was ready to burst. Sybil, as a young woman, had never experienced such emotions in her entire existence – nor did she expect to feel like this after her unfortunate partnership with Larry. However, now that she had received her first bittersweet taste of love, and how it felt to be loved; she could never return to that life in which she was adorned with only loneliness.

Sybil's fingers were ensnared into his hair as she pulled on it lightly; his answering groan made her knees weak and her mouth water with desire. Tom could feel his back connect with the mirror as she pushed him against the wall with fervour; he was soon rid of his chauffeur jacket and he was surprised to note that her own attire was unbuttoned and ready to be removed. It was almost like a wave of lust had washed over her, and she couldn't get enough of each inch of his bare skin.

"Sybil, this is your _parent's_ house…" he breathed out between kisses. "I'm all for the untamed love-making, but in your _parent's_ bathroom?"

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and continued to bare herself, due to the fact that her chauffeur's shaking fingers were doing a mighty slow job at it. She squirmed out of the blue silk that kissed her milky-white skin and took a moment to carefully remove the harem pants that embraced her ankles. Tom opened his mouth to protest further; but the mere sight of her naked form was enough to shut him up. Her hair had been pulled into intricate knots at the back of her neck and she looked like a goddess from another time – somewhere in the past; he could almost remember seeing it. Her white skin looked soft and slender under the bright light of the bathroom and the gentle swell of her breasts as she inhaled and exhaled…yes, all protests were gone from him.

"Don't be such a spoil-sport, Branson," she announced in a posh tone. "I find it rather _thrilling_ – the threat of detection, hand-marks on the mirror, marking your territory on their youngest daughter. Don't _you_ find it just a little bit exciting?" She chuckled.

His mouth felt like a desert underneath the blaring sun; he had no words. Instead, he chose to show her his excitement through actions. His hands were on her tiny waist in a matter of seconds and she was flushed against him in a passionate kiss; their chests were crushed together in the battle for ultimate closeness. His moist tongue teased her lips until they finally parted and welcomed him into her mouth.

Sybil's deft hands worked on those ridiculous green trousers until they were around his ankles and he was able to lithely step out of them. There were several footsteps in the corridor outside and she could hear the sound of snobbish voices filtering through the door, but she didn't halt in her endeavours. The voices soon passed and she was still ridding her almost-naked chauffeur from the last of his clothing. Her fingers were tucked into the waistband of his boxers and he moaned against her lips at her tantalizing characteristics; if he wasn't the one trapped against the mirror then he would have definitely had his way with her already. Perhaps she _wanted _to be caught out; the thought somehow enticed him.

"For God's sake, Sybil," he grumbled. Tom spun them carefully around so that Sybil was seated on the edge of the basin, balanced only with his strong arms around her. His free hand worked at his boxers until his pulsing manhood was revealed in all its glory; and how Sybil relished the fact that she had made it like so. She could remember seeing one for the first time; she thought it horrible at first, and she knew that Larry's erections often came from the fact that he loved to see her in pain. This was different…he was excited for _her_, because of her body…her voice…everything.

There was no need to ask for permission at this point; he teased her entrance just as much as she had teased him. Tom didn't stop until he was sure that his bold girlfriend was a drivelling mess. Her arms were limp around his neck and her face was flushed against his shoulder as she murmured weakly for him to 'hurry the fuck up'.

Sybil arched her back in search of him, and by God, did she find him. Tom pushed into her slowly; mischievously filling her inch by inch until she could only whimper. His hand supported them against the mirror, whilst his other hand kept her balanced around her waist – he set an agonizingly slow pace at first. Sybil's arms were enfolded around his neck and her long legs were draped around him desperately.

She could hear noise come from the corridor once more; but this just excited her more. Tom could feel all of his stamina crumbling as she slowly pushed her hips towards him in such a slow but hard rhythm. He was afraid that it would all be over in two seconds and he felt like a fifteen-year-old boy once more – but that was why he adored her so much…she made him feel like that. The pace quickened after the first few minutes and Sybil could feel desire pool in her stomach; all of her limbs seemed to threaten cramp as he pushed into her as she balanced on the edge of the basin.

"Oh god, Tom…" Her voice was strained; but she knew that it would be fatal for her to call out his name in such a manner. Instead, she chose to burrow her nails into his back as he thrust frantically into her now; on the brim of his own release. It was with a brisk knock on the door that both of them found their climax; he spilled into her with his mouth opening without sound as Sybil tightened her limbs around him as her entire body seemed to turn to liquid at that moment.

Tom and Sybil were both silent as they listened to their heavy breathing; however, the knock came once more and the pair almost groaned at the inconvenience. He quickly pulled out of her and pressed an urgent kiss to her parted lips; he was sure that he couldn't speak out after such an activity, but Sybil had a delirious smile on her face.

"It's occupied!" she called out in annoyance as she removed herself from her perch on the water basin. She winced as she felt the pain from such a position; oh, but how it was a blissful pain that made all of her bones ache with desire once more.

"Sybil, is that you? We've been looking for you." She was sure that she could have died at that moment as she heard her eldest sister's voice from the other end of the door. Tom was already retrieving his scattered clothing from the floor and pulling it on him; she decided to do the same before she was caught in quite the predicament.

"You're not upset about Granny, are you?" Sybil almost groaned as she heard Edith's voice filter from the outside, also. She had never expected to be in a situation where both of her sisters waited outside a bathroom door as she dressed quickly after fabulous bathroom sex with her handsome boyfriend. No, she had never expected it, but she embraced it as it came.

"No, not at all," Sybil croaked as she slid her costume back onto her naked form. She indicated for Tom to quickly do up her buttons as he pulled on his hat; she could feel her hands sweating as her sisters made no move to leave. "I'll be out in a second!"

"What will you say?" Tom's whisper was embroidered with amusement.

"Never mind that, just go along with it," she whispered in return. As the last button was done, she took a quick look in the mirror before she flitted towards the exit. She flicked the lock and opened the door with a ridiculous smile. Her once-neat curls at the back of her neck were now mussed and her swollen lips were hard to miss; she was met with a calculating look from Mary and a shocked expression from Edith – in which both were ironically dressed as rather stylish witches.

"Oh, we didn't think to find _you _here, Mr Branson," Mary spoke first. Her facial features were not kind as she took in his appearance with distaste; but now was not the time for confrontations, as she would have plenty of time for that soon.

"There was a bit of an accident," Sybil mumbled suddenly. "I managed to spill my drink on him, as clumsy as I am. Isn't that right, Tom?"

Mary noted that there was nothing odd about the driver's costume, apart from the fact that the buttons were mixed up after a hurried dress in the bathroom. Her eyebrow rose, but she did not comment on it.

"Well, we came to tell you that mama invited you to stay with us at the weekend; she wanted you to know before you left for the night," Mary continued.

"What Mary means to say, is that mama wants both you and Tom to travel to Downton for the weekend – it will be quite amusing, I'm sure. Matthew will be staying and we have the cricket match to look forward to…" Edith was cut short as Mary touched her arm.

"That was all we had to tell you, darling. I'm sure we'll see you there."

Tom could feel the eldest sister's gaze on him, unwavering. Yes, he was sure that the intimidation and interrogation would not be too far away in the future. Edith allowed them both an awkward half-smile as both sisters took their leave.

"Well…that was an interesting night," Tom finally broke the silence.

There was a moment of stillness, and then both of them burst into laughter. Sybil enveloped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest as she listened to the hum of his laughter; she was positive that she had never been so content in her entire life at that moment. Mary and Edith turned the corner at the end of the corridor, but they could still hear the laughter from the bathroom.

"Well, we always knew that Sybil did things differently…" Mary mused.

* * *

**A/N: **Ah, how I love Sybil/Branson sexytimes. And they always come out of no-where. I'm sorry if this chapter was a little scattered and if there are any mistakes, but do review and let me know! (:


	12. Tempers Rise

**DISCLAIMER: I am not Julian Fellowes. **

**A/N: **I know that it has taken me forever to update! I am snowed under with university work at the moment; I will do lots of uni work tomorrow and then start on the next chapter ~ I'm not sure how I feel about this update. My writing hasn't been great lately, so if you are disappointed with this chapter then please excuse it because I will be back to my usual knack by the next chapter, promise! There is a bit of Sybil/Tom conflict in this chapter; do excuse Tom's intoxicated state, he can be a bit of a fool - but can't we all?

* * *

The misfit aristocrat had to admit that she wasn't quite accustomed to the hustle and bustle of house parties, for she had never attended one in the past. She had seen the basic illustration in movies and in descriptions from her university friends, but she had never foreseen such chaos in such a small little house. The sound of sirens were loud in her ears, but the blaring sound of the heavy metal music on the stereo seemed to drown out the imminent arrival of the police. Sybil stood in the corner of the room with a red plastic container between her two hands; she took timid sips of the water. She tried to dismiss the foul smell that hung in the thick air; it was a distinct mixture of cigarette smoke and sweat. The bodies moved to the rhythm of the drum beat within the packed living room and she tried to avoid the splatter of alcohol that spilled from their drinks.

The entire fiasco started with a call from one of Tom's friends; it had been two nights after the Halloween Ball at her parent's city house, and Tom thought it was about time that she experienced the kind of parties that he was accustomed to. Her stomach had been twisted with nerves and excitements – she was anxious to see what Tom's friends thought about her and also excited about the fact that she could let her hair down. However, her second wild night seemed to end in a bit of a mess.

"I've never seen you this nervous before," Tom stated as the couple walked towards the front door of the small house. Her little hand was cocooned in his and he gave it a gentle squeeze whenever she chuckled nervously at his statement.

"I don't want them all to hate me…" She paused for a moment. "I don't want them to think that I'm some kind of spoilt socialite, I just want them to like me."

Tom could have laughed, if he wasn't afraid of hurting her feelings. Instead, he used his free hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear; it tucked neatly into her cute hat. He briskly knocked on the door and leant forward to press a lingering kiss to her cold lips; she smiled into the fond peck, but it was over all too soon.

"I don't think anyone could hate you, love," he chuckled.

It was at that moment that the door swung open. The man at the door was clad in loose jeans and a sweater that was already stained with beer; his cheeks were a faint red and his smile was contagious as he welcomed his friend with a fierce embrace. He reached out and ruffled Tom's neat hair with affection.

"I haven't seen you in four fuckin' months, mate; get in here!"

Tom's smile was wide and knowing as he pulled her in the front door with him; his hand loosened on her and instead her ensnared his arm protectively around her waist. Sybil wasn't often timid, rather the contrary, but she could feel herself shy into his side as he interacted with his friend – from what information he had told her; this man must be his room-mate from university.

"It's nice to see you too, Rob," he scoffed as the drunken man ushered them into the living room in order to retrieve drinks. "I mentioned the extra guest on the phone – this is my girlfriend, Sybil…" Tom looked down at her, and she could have swore that she saw much more than adoration reflected in his cerulean orbs. She could see pride.

"It's wonderful to meet you." Her cheeks turned pink as she reached her hand out to him. Rob shook it with great enthusiasm, but she could see the judgement in his eyes. He seemed to scrutinise her attire and then focused, perhaps, on her accent.

"Well, well, I always knew that Tom went for women out of his league, but you're quite the achievement," he chuckled in response.

Sybil shifted uncomfortably at the mention of being 'an achievement' – if she were in a different position, then she would have corrected him in defence of her sex. However, she bit on her cheek when she felt the retort come over her. She wanted to make a good impression on Tom's friends, and she couldn't do that if she was insulting them as soon as she shook their hands.

"Never mind him, he doesn't know when to shut it," Tom teased as he took her hand once more; it was almost like he could read her mind at times. She wasn't sure if she liked this or not, but at least that indicated their closeness.

Tom and Rob had launched into conversation immediately; however, it sounded more like a brawl to her as both of them had to shout to be heard over the music. The living room seemed to become more and more crammed as the night went on – after an hour, she could feel beads of sweat form on her brow. Tom seemed to have introduced her to everyone in the room – there were friends from university and friends from the neighbourhood that they had lived in. She was positive that she would never remember all of their names, but she smiled all the same. However, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was quite out of place there.

_I don't fit in with my own family and friends, and I don't seem to fit in here. I'm doomed to absolute failure;_ her mind seemed to torture her the entire night. Tom seemed quite at home with his mates and she was rather sure that he had consumed more cans of beer than anyone in the entire room. But to watch him smile and laugh was all that she needed to remind her that all she wanted was his happiness; he had endured an evening at the Halloween Ball with her grandmother's questions, and so she was content to spend a night with his friends in return.

"I need to head to the loo," she said to him. It took him a minute to process what she had said, but he eventually seemed to grasp her concept.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Tom quirked an eyebrow as he slurred his words in quite an adorable manner. Sybil knew that these bad sexual habits would spoil him; now he would be wanting sex each time she needed to leave for a pee. However, his cute insinuation made her grin and she shook her head with reluctance.

"I think I can handle it on my own," she chuckled as she leant on her toes to kiss his cheek; she could smell a mixture of alcohol and cologne from him. Sybil was sure that she would be the one taking _him _home that evening.

* * *

It was almost like a labyrinth in the small house; she had opened around three doors before she eventually found the bathroom. However, it was almost as difficult to find the route back to the living room as it was to the bathroom. She arrived in the crammed room to find that Tom had vanished from where she had left him at the window; she took a moment to look around the room for him, but he was gone. Sybil wandered over to the coffee table and lifted her drink of water in order to _not _look so awkward, but as she retreated to the corner and looked around for a familiar face, she looked more awkward than she could have imagined. It was like all the faces blended into one, and she would have no idea what their names were if she went to them.

She remained in that delicate position for another fifteen minutes, before she decided that Tom seemed to be held up in another room. Sybil pushed past the moving bodies in the living room and made it to the kitchen, which was a little less crowded. However, as she looked around at the faces in the room, she realised that Tom wasn't there either. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she pondered over whether or not he had left – but that was ridiculous, was it not? She had to assume that he was in the bathroom, either for the natural reason or because he consumed too much alcohol. She shimmied past the bodies in the kitchen and paused at the door that led into the hall – she could hear the sound of his strong Irish brogue.

She smiled inwardly at the soft slurs in his voice and went to move into the hall and retrieve him all to herself, but the second voice made her pause. The nail-biting voice that replied to him made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. But what the hell would she be doing here? Sybil tried to move away from the doorframe, and she tried not to listen to their conversation…but then she heard their laughs filter in from the hall and she remained there in ear-shot. She could remember the cold nature in which Tom greeted her at the flat; why would he be laughing with her now?

"I can't believe you remember that," Tom said in his thick accent.

"I don't think my mind will recover from it – the last house party that Rob invited us to, we were left in the garden in the freezing cold for two hours!"

Both of them seemed to take a moment to laugh at old memories; but an awkward silence followed and she heard a rustle of clothing. Sybil clenched her fists as she imagined Caroline slinking closer to him in the small hall.

"I know that I shouldn't have come to the flat the other day, but I had such a shock seeing you last week and I wanted to make sure that you were okay. She _is _quite pretty, and I'm sure that she's smart too if she caught your eye. But I want you to be _careful_, Tommy. She wanted out of that marriage, no matter what she had to do to achieve that…look, I don't know her, but that baby might not have been such an accident in the end. I just want to protect you, yeah?"

Sybil didn't wait to hear the rest of the conversation; she moved through the kitchen door and pushed past the bodies crowding the hall. She could hear her name being called, but she didn't turn around to answer. She wanted to grab her coat from the rack, but she didn't have time to sit and look through all the other coats. Instead, she marched out the front door and met the brisk winter wind in her little dress. Her heels echoed against the pavement as she continued down the street and turned the corner; she could hear the sound of him calling her name once more, but it was faint.

It was fortunate that she found a cab stand at the end of the next street; she had climbed into the back of a taxi just as she heard her name being called once more.

* * *

The warmth of her old flat was a comfort. Sybil sat on the couch with an untouched cup of tea on the coffee table and a blanket pulled around her shivering form; she convinced herself that she trembled because of the cold outside, but she knew that it was much more than the shit London weather. She tried to concentrate on the words in the book, but not even a re-read of _Pride and Prejudice_ seemed to calm her.

It was the sound of the television that kept her company. She put her phone onto silent after the first ten phone calls, and turned it over on the coffee table. She was taken aback as the first tear fell onto the parchment of the book; she hadn't realised that she was crying until she reached to her cheek and felt the warmth of the salty tears.

Sybil knew that she was over-emotional because of the pregnancy, but she didn't know how much her emotions would take a whirlwind. She didn't even know what Tom would have said in response; she had stormed out of there without a thought. However, then she reminisced back to the sound of their friendly laughing and fond memories and she could feel the bile rise in her throat. Did he think that she became pregnant because she wanted a reason to leave her husband? He couldn't possibly believe that she didn't take her pill and fell pregnant on _purpose_.

She rose from the couch and pulled her blanket with her to the bedroom. It was in that bedroom that she was with Tom for the first time; and she was almost tempted to run back into the living room and hike a tent on the floor. However, she succumbed to her exhaustion and collapsed into the duvet with a huff. She soon fell into a light slumber with her hand caressing the almost invisible swell of her stomach.

* * *

Tom could hear the sound of his heart thrashing in his chest as he dialled her number once more; he listened to the dull humming of the tone as Sybil continued to dismiss his calls. He didn't mind if she refused to talk to him, but he _needed_ to know if she made it home safe – he wanted her to be safe inside, so he could relax just a little bit. But he knew that it would take more than a few words from him to put her at rest; he could have punched himself. He shouldn't have listened to her for more than two seconds; he should have ran in the other direction when he saw her at the door.

He couldn't excuse his behaviour; he treated Caroline like his mortal enemy when she showed her face at the flat, but his alcohol-induced state wasn't wise. She smiled, and he smiled in return although his sober-self would have wanted to walk away. She chatted about old times, almost like it was yesterday…he was sucked into it for a moment, and that was all it took to be back into her snare.

_Was she listening the entire time? _He shook his head as he imagined her listening to all the old times that were recollected; back when he was with Caroline. Tom could see her now; his sweet Sybil with tears on her cheeks. The mere idea of it made his stomach churn and he dialled her number once more as his feet hit the pavement faster; he saw her climbing into the back of a cab and so at least he knew that she would be off the streets and somewhere inside. He had tried the flat, but to no avail. His heart was thumping as he turned the corner into the street of her old flat; he knew it like the back of his hand. It had been their rendezvous location during 'the affair' and it was the last place that she could be; if she wasn't there, then he was sure that he would be taking a mental breakdown in the gutter soon.

He produced the spare key from his wallet as soon as he ascended the stairs to the front door; there was no point in buzzing for her when she would avoid him. Tom let himself into the building and climbed the staircase until he came to her door. His vision was hindered as he looked at the number on the door; but no matter what kind of state he was in, he knew that he couldn't leave without seeing her.

Tom could see light filtering from underneath the door and he could feel relief wash over him like a ten-foot wave. He put the key into the door, but as he turned the lock, he could feel it jam. He tried once more, before coming to the realisation that she must have kept the key in the other end of the door to prevent him from coming in. Tom raised his fist and knocked on the door; no answer.

"Sybil, it's me." He could have winced at the sound of his own loud voice.

There was no answer, as expected. However, he could hear the sound of moving inside the flat and he had to assume that she would be listening.

"I know that you don't want to see me right now, but please let me in, love. I want to explain what went on at the party…and I also need to use the loo." He flinched at the word vomit that seemed to flow from him that night, and he knocked once more on the door as he heard movement from within. "I don't know how much you heard, but it was just some banter – she started talkin' about old times and I didn't mean to chat so much to her…I'm not doing so well with explaining this, am I?"

"You're drunk. Sod off," she hissed from the other end of the door.

Tom could feel his heart pummel in his chest at the mere sound of her voice; he could hear that it was heavy with emotion, but she tried to contain it. He pressed his palm onto the wooden panel of the door and rest his head there with a groan of frustration; he wanted to rewind the entire night. He would take Sybil into the living room to meet his friends, but he would remain respectfully sober and adorn her with love and affection, rather than fuck off in the middle of the night. He would turn a blind eye to Caroline when she came in the front door and he would walk away from her whenever she snaked up to him with old stories from the past.

He couldn't give a shit about the past at that moment; the only thing he cared about was whether or not he just screwed up his future with the beautiful woman on the other end of the door. He _needed _to explain.

"I'm not _that_ drunk, love. I just walked from our flat to here, bit of fresh air and all that…" he murmured pathetically. "Look, I deserve all that you're givin' me. I would have smacked me already if I were you, but please let me in, sweetheart."

The door came open with a jolt and he all but fell into the flat. Tom stumbled forward, but managed to steady himself before he fell right into his fuming girlfriend. He looked as nervous as a boy as he looked at her. She tried to seem more irritated than distressed as her hands rested on her hips and her cheeks flushed with anger; but he could see the smudged mascara and the quivering bottom lip.

"Ah, come here love," he murmured as he extended his arms towards her. However, he was met with silence as she turned her head to the side; rejection. "Come on, let me in and you can calm down a bit – all this stress can't be good for the baby."

"Oh yes, the baby," she announced with a snort. "The baby that I must have purposely put there, because I am too much of a coward to leave my husband for another man."

Tom flinched; almost as if he had been struck across his face. He remembered it now; the malicious words that oozed from Caroline at the end of their conversation. He could remember seeing Sybil push her way out the front door; and now it dawned on him that her real hurt came from that one comment. However, as he opened his mouth to show his disdain of Caroline's behaviour, she seemed to speak out once more.

"I never _planned _for any of this to happen, Tom. I have spent the last few hours weeping into a Jane Austen novel, while watching a repeat of the X Factor on the bloody television – do you think that I _want _to be this hormonal?" Her voice cracked as she moved to lean against the couch with her palm caressing her small stomach. She knew that her over-reaction was uncalled for, but she felt so _hurt_. "That stupid woman has no idea what she's talking about – it's none of her business, either. I'm rather sure that this was none of my plan; getting fat, having to pee all the time, pushing a massive baby out of you-know-where!"

"Do you forgive me, sweetheart?"

"No."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"Do you want a cuddle?"

"Yes."

He strode across the room in a few steps and enfolded his muscular arms around her. Tom could feel her shoulders shaking as she buried her face into his chest and her little arms came around his waist; his hands ran through her wild hair as he tried to settle her down before she _did _cause any damage to herself and the baby. He hummed unknown Gaelic words into her ear and in after around five minutes, she calmed.

"How do you think I could listen to her, Sybil?" he murmured into her hair. "She spins a constant web of lies, and I shouldn't have stood and talked to her. This is my fault, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." His voice was laced with desperation as he cupped her tear-stained face with both of his warm palms. "I don't believe her for one minute – I know that I'm not the most perfect guy in the entire world, far from it, and still you chose to be with _me _and I can hardly believe it sometimes. I ask myself, why would a woman like that want an idiot like me? I can't cook for shit, I read bloody gardening books and I drink a little bit too much whenever chance offers it. But here I am, with the woman I love and an unexpected little surprise on the way."

Sybil could still feel tears streaming down her cheeks, but his words brought a smile to her beautiful facial features.

"I would never do that to you, Tom…I wouldn't do that to anyone. A baby was never part of the grand plan for me – I wanted to travel and finish school and learn how to ride a motorbike, this is all just…so much." She leant forward so that her lips could touch his cheek. "I'm sorry…for being an emotional wreck."

"No, _I'm _sorry for being an insufferable drunk…and believe me, Sybil, that woman would do anything to come between us now that she knows I'm not pining over her. I shouldn't have taken the bait tonight like an idiot."

Sybil could feel herself becoming sick of the apologies, so instead she buried her face into his neck and inhaled his intoxicating scent with a sweet sigh. Her lips were but a few centimetres from his skin, but she just relished the closeness at that moment.

"It's alright," she murmured against his throat. "But you still _are _an idiot."

Tom snorted in response and pulled her closer to him so that their hips were crushed together and there was no way to squirm out of his loving embrace. He pressed a kiss into her curls as he tried to dismiss the fact that a stupid tear had escaped down his cheek; what would he do if he lost her? His mind flashed back to that night when she was half-dead in the middle of the road and he squeezed her tighter – however, this time he almost lost her with his own idiocy.

"Perhaps the party wasn't the most brilliant idea," he mused after a while.

"No, I thought it was rather fun. It would have been much better with a few glasses of wine, but your friends were nice…I'm glad no-one seemed to dislike me. But socialising isn't my most pertinent characteristic at the moment, I'm too emotional."

Tom smiled at the mention of her upside-down hormones; she had been switching from one mood to another the entire week. There were times when she would be flitting around the flat like the world was full of rainbows, and the next minute she would be throwing the remote at the TV for no reason at all. However, the most difficult element of her transforming moods came with her desires; she would wake him in the middle of the night with her mouth on his neck and her hands around his lower regions…and all of a sudden she could change her mind and fall back to sleep within an instant. It was infuriating.

"I wasn't going to say anything, but…"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence as Sybil swatted his shoulder. The rest was history; however, she knew that it would take some time for their relationship to blossom and for them to understand each other so completely. He was her best friend; after all, she _had _to trust that this would work out.

* * *

The clamour of dishes in the kitchen pulled her out of the restless slumber; she had tossed and turned the entire night after her ridiculous fit of emotions. She found herself thankful that she hadn't kicked him out of her old flat like she had planned; no matter how bottomless her worries were, she knew that she would have been much more distressed if his arms hadn't settled around her in bed. Unlike most nights when he had come home with her, consumed with alcohol and chuckling about nothing in particular – he remained awake with her, rather than falling into a unfathomable doze that would last until the next morning.

He had peeled away her little dress and adorned her slender form with an old pair of cotton pyjamas that rather reminded him of the first time they met. Sybil climbed into bed with the duvet pulled protectively around her whilst Tom retrieved a wet cloth from the bathroom; he sat next to her in the double bed and dabbed at her face until the mascara stains had diminished and she was left with pink eyes and pink cheeks. He found her little sniffles adorable as she buried her face into her pillow; he turned off the bedside lamp and settled into the blankets comfortably. He didn't continue with his usual routine where he would put his arms around her and pull her close; he waited and waited as he listened to her sniffles continue. It took around fifteen minutes for her to crawl over to his side of the bed; he smiled as she sunk her face into his neck and pressed a warm kiss to his skin.

"I feel like such an idiot," she had whispered to him in a soft tone.

"God, I love you so much. I acted like a complete bastard and you still think that I'm not in the wrong. I won't ever be unkind like that again, Sybil."

She was restless for most of the night; she had curled into a comfortable ball that curved into his side and she would change her position now and then. Sometimes she would be sprawled across him, and other times she would just rest her head on his chest and listen to the heartbeat within – she always mentioned to him that his heart sounded just fine to her; no indication that there was a murmur there. But those flaws just made him all the more perfect to her; him and his murmuring heart.

"Don't leave me, Tom," she mumbled into his chest before she finally fell into a semi-peaceful slumber that lasted until morning.

However, she found herself still restless when she awoke. Sybil looked at the alarm clock and noticed that it was just seven in the morning – she almost moaned; she hated the early mornings. Tom was used to rising with the birds for his work, but she would much prefer to dawdle around in bed with lots of junk food. She winced as she heard the clamour of pots and pans once more; she was sure that it couldn't be good if Tom was strolling around her kitchen.

_Please don't be puking in one of my pots_, she murmured to herself as she threw back the scalding duvet and climbed out of the comfortable bed. Sybil smiled at the warmth of the woollen socks on her feet as she walked into the kitchen; he must have put them on during the night, as she had quite the habit of burying her feet into him in order to gather some warmth in her frozen little toes.

She paused and leant on the doorframe of the kitchen as she watched Tom's immaculate bum in the air as he bent down to retrieve something from a press. Sybil admired the view for quite some time before she cleared her throat; she heard a bump and then a flurry of swear words as he emerged from under the sink. Tom held his hand to the back of his head as he rose and turned to see a smirking Sybil.

"I was _about _to make breakfast, but you seriously have no kitchen utensils."

Sybil smiled affectionately at his peeved tone, but dismissed the comment – she was never one for cooking and could hardly tell one pot from the other, whereas Tom was quite skilled with these different cooking items. She wandered to the kitchen table and leant on it with a smile that contrasted her mood from the night before.

"No matter, my stomach is twisting and turning anyhow. It feels like he's doing somersaults in the womb; but I doubt he's more than a peanut in there."

"Oh, _he_? And how is my beautiful girlfriend so sure that it is a _he_?"

"I'm not sure; shall we just call it a mother's instinct?" Her mouth turned into an awkward smile; it was so unusual to refer to herself as a mother. Sybil still felt like sometimes she needed her own mother, but now she was going to be one?

"Nah, I reckon it's a little Sybil in there. We can call that a _father's instinct_, because every daddy needs a little princess," he smirked in return.

She could feel her stomach twist as the conversation turned more intimate; both of them had referred to themselves as parents for the first time. It was real all of a sudden; their love affair, the consequences…the bittersweet consequences.

"Hmm…and what if daddy doesn't get a little princess?" She questioned.

"Then, we will just have to keep doing it until he gets one."

Sybil ducked her head for a moment as she felt her cheeks burn; she never would have thought that she would ever have this conversation in her life. She had been destined to live her life with Larry, and she knew that she would never be with child. It hadn't enticed her at that moment when she accepted his proposal; but now as she listened to Tom talk about their future together, she realised how much she wanted these intimate moments – discussing their children, their life in the next few years… God, it was like her life had somersaulted out of control and now she was where she always wanted to be – with someone who made her feel safe, loved and _cherished_.

"It's unusual, isn't it? Talking about all this, I mean." Her voice was soft and quiet, but it was evident that she was pleased – the follies of the previous night were forgotten as she lifted her chin and looked at him.

Tom was leant against the kitchen counter in nothing but his black boxers; she thanked the lord that he was an in-between kind of man. He hated those loose-fitting boxers that would make him feel more like he's wearing shorts, and he didn't quite like briefs either – he settled for a tight pair of boxers that seemed to hug each contour of his front and bum. Sybil was sure that she would never get used to just watching him lounge around her old flat in nothing but his underwear.

"I rather like it," he commented as he lifted his mug of tea from the counter. "Never been in a relationship that I feel so comfortable in before."

She could feel her smile lift at the compliment; Sybil rose from the kitchen table and wandered idly over to her unsuspecting boyfriend as he sipped on his tea. She took the mug from his hand and set it on the marble counter; she let her soft palms caress the back of his neck as she leant forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. Sybil could feel his instant reaction as he ensnared his arm around her thin waist and pulled her against him until she could feel the hard indication of his arousal.

Just as Sybil was about to reach down and test just how aroused he was; she heard her mobile sound from the living room. It vibrated on the coffee table relentlessly and she could feel her face fall – she would have much preferred to have make-up sex with her god-like boyfriend at that moment, but the loud ringing would have drove her mad. Her woollen socks were quick on the wooden floor as she rushed into the living room and looked down at the caller ID on the illuminated screen.

_Sara Dwight_. She could feel her heart in her stomach as she remembered her task for that afternoon – her friend from university had asked her to babysit her daughter for a few hours so that she could attend a wedding that afternoon. She couldn't believe that it had swam out of her mind immediately; she was usually quite good at promises.

"Hello?" She answered the mobile, but it was a short conversation. Sara was on her way over to Tom's flat and she continued to thank Sybil for her kindness.

At the end of the conversation, she rushed back into the kitchen with a frown. Sybil clutched Tom's coat that hung over the kitchen chair and threw it at him in haste; she bent down and retrieved her own shoes from underneath the table.

"Get your clothes on, _now_!" she insisted in a strict tone as she rushed back out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Sybil was buttoning her shirt when Tom sauntered into the bedroom with his brow raised as he took in his flurry of a girlfriend.

"That wasn't what you were saying a moment ago," he snorted. He could feel his boldness shine through as he wandered over to her and clutched her hand as she tried to fasten the last button on her shirt. Her brow furrowed and she swatted his hand away so that she could shimmy into her jeans.

"I have to babysit all afternoon – it must have blown out of my mind. My friend from university is on her way over to your flat, I gave her the address last week when she asked me where I would be able to look after her kid," she explained quickly.

Tom seemed to stand there for a moment or two; torn between dismissing her requests and throwing her into the bed, or actually listening to his mind rather than his dick.

"TOM!" Her squeal pulled him back to reality. "Dress, now!"

* * *

**A/N: **I know that this update isn't very good! I am _so _sorry, my lovely readers! But please do review if you can, I do appreciate it. :')

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